


Working With What You Got

by Femalefonzie



Series: The Barton Family Tree [1]
Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Steve Rogers, Avengers Assemble made me want to fully plot out Clint's back story, Avengers Family, BAMF Clint Barton, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Has Issues, Deaf Clint Barton, F/F, F/M, Future Maria Hill/Bobbi Morse, Future Stony, Future Thorki, Hulk & Thor friendship, Kid Clint Barton, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Origin Story, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Use, Past Relationship(s), Past Underage Sex, Protective Avengers, Protective Steve Rogers, References to Illness, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Smart Hulk, Thor Loves Pop-Tarts, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:38:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3954469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Femalefonzie/pseuds/Femalefonzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One little book shouldn't have caused the Avengers so much trouble...</p><p>Or...</p><p>Sam didn't mean to find Clint's journal lying around, he didn't mean to let the others read it and he certainly didn't mean for it all to go this far. None of them really wanted to pry this much into the archer's past but after reading it all, they're finding it incredibly difficult to see him in the same light anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Life and Times of a Hawk

Let the record show that the following events happened with the best intention and in no way did Sam ever intend for it to go this far. 

Rebuilding the tower after the Ultron outbreak hadn't taken the team even a month. Tony had even been nice enough to add some more floor space to each bedroom so things weren't as cramped anymore. Hulk had more space for his figurines, Natasha had enough space to proudly display each and every weapon in her personal arsenal including (and counting) 37 handguns, 11 heavy duty machine guns, 24 cans of mace, 3 katanas and a tazer, Steve had enough space to set up an art studio so he could get back to his paintings (some of which were sold to galleries throughout the world as well as SHIELD to display on the Helicarrier for inspiration), Scott could set his entire lab up in his room, Sam himself could actually fit all of his stuff into his living space (finally) and Thor...well Thor's room was big enough already thanks to Asgardian magic and runes. Tony's room was bare except for a closet full of whatever he salvaged from the mansion, clothes and a bed he rarely slept in and Clint's room was...as messy as ever. 

It was beginning to get on everyone's last nerve. No one on the team could walk past the Archer's door without catching a wift of stale pizza and pickles wafting out. Even the Hulk was sick and tired of his slobbish behavior and the smell. Seven out of eight members on the team agreed that something had to be done so they did what they always did when faced with the horrible reality of having to clean something. They drew straws and shortest had the pleasure of sorting through half eaten boxes of Chinese take-out, dirty laundry that may have never seen the inside of a washing machine in the years Clint had been a member of SHIELD let alone as an Avenger and then explaining to him why his room had been sorted and picked through well he was out running missions with Natasha and Fury. 

Sam was the (un)lucky one and despite his attempts to bribe Thor with poptarts to take the job and Hulk with whatever snack food he was craving at the moment, it could not be done. Any attempt to procrastinate the task was met with the threat of limited access to the lab for the next year so unfortunately he did not have a choice. He buckled down and forced himself to try and clean Hawkeye's room. 

He started with sorting. Clothes that were scattered around the room were put in a pile to go to the wash, empty food containers, wrappers, bottles and anything that looked like trash was put in another, all arrows and weapons owned by the archer were put on his bed until further notice and then he got to the hard part. Those items had been easy to sort but the rest of Clint's stuff could have qualified as junk or as stuff of significant importance to him. There books with pages ripped out, DVDs and VHS tapes that were unlabelled so there was no telling what was on them (and Sam didn't want to risk stumbling upon some hardcore pornography), photos that were ripped and torn beyond recognizance and other stuff that he couldn't place a name too.

"As far as nests go this one is a disgrace to all birds everywhere." Sam mumbled to himself while he worked on sliding books into Clint's bedside table. He then proceeded to laugh at his own lame joke, wonder how his life ever became what it was now and started feeling around beside him for anymore books to put in. Unknowingly, his hand drifted under the older man's bed and touched something rough and leather bound. Definitely book like. He yanked it out from under the bed and took a good look at it. Why would Clint be hiding books under his bed? Surprisingly, the underneath of his bed was quite clean but Clint had never been one to follow the norms of other people.

His suspicions of the object being a leather bound book was confirmed but it seemed...different from the others some how. It was thicker, the pages were tanned with age...and it smelled suspiciously like buttered popcorn. It was also in a much better physical shape than anything else Sam had encountered at his task. Curiosity got the better of him and he flipped to the first page within the book. The writing on it is messy and faded slightly but still legible. 

_May 3rd, 1997_

_Barney got me this journal to keep track of everything going on right now. Says that if I end up gettin the family curse, then I can jus' read this book and I'll be able to 'member all I need to 'member. I don't really know what to say right now...everything is...it's the same old thing. I guess I'll start back at the beginning. Most of this stuff is second hand knowledge that I heard from Mama, Barney and Gramma._

_I'm Clinton Francis Barton, from Waverly Iowa. I was born in 1991. Mama was staying with Gramma at the farm an' I was born there. Gramma said she was milking cows when it happened. I used to live with Gramma, Mama and Barney on the farm until Gramma died last year and we had to go back home with Daddy....I really miss Gramma. She didn't yell as much as daddy does and she told really cool stories 'bout the war. Also, she didn't mind when I talked too much. Daddy yells I talk too loud and too much so I just try not to say anythin' around him._

_Daddy doesn't just yell at me though he yells at Mama and Barney too. Mama says to just ignore it and Barney says to too. They're a lot smarta' than me so I guess I just gotta listen to them on this one._

_I wanted this journal because of Gramma. Near the end of everythin' she started to forget about me an' Barney an' a lot of other stuff. I asked Barney why she couldn't seem to remember us and Barney said it was the family curse. He called it Alz-heim-ers and says it makes people forget a lotta things. Said that uncle Francis had it too, an' auntie Lottie and auntie Ruth. Said that me an' him were probably going to get it in our lives too. I told him that I wanted to be able to remember everything so he got me this to put everything worth remembering in it._

_So basic stuff about me...my birthday is June 18th, I like the color purple and my favorite animals are dogs. I really hope that in the future I can remember that and get a lot of dogs. That way when I grow up I can go live on Gramma's farm with Barney and a whole bunch of dogs! Um...My favorite movie is Blade Runner with Harr-i-son Ford and that's all I can really say right now. Daddy owns a butcher shop and we live above it now but I really want to go back to Gramma's farm. She never hit me or Barney or Mama like Daddy does._

_-Clint Barton_

Sam slammed the book shut, guilt immediately washing over him like a wave. He shouldn't have read that. Clint was going to kill him if he had any idea that he had even seen the book lying under there, let alone take a peak at what was written inside of it. Listening to a six year old Hawkeye talk about...about fear of getting Alzheimers and forgetting all that mattered to him and about being...being hit by father....

"-Mission was a dead end. Turns out Doom just wanted to go on vacation without any evil purpose for once-"

Oh no. He hadn't expected Clint to be back this early. Oh shit. Within the first few days as an avenger Sam had vowed never to see Hawkeye completely pissed off before or any of the avengers. He just wanted them all to accept him as an equal member. He could hear Clint coming down the hall to his room, talking with who Sam could only assume was Natasha, the heels of his booths clicking loudly as he grew closer. Sam panicked and stuffed the journal down his shirt then adjusted his hoodie so it didn't seem misshapen. He could handle getting yelled at for straightening up the Archer's room, he just didn't want to face Clint'e wrath for peeking into an unsavory part of his past. Lord knew the man got moody whenever anyone ever tried to bring it up around him. 

Huh. If this was a journal Clint kept all his life than it would have information in it from not only as a kid but when he was in the circus of crime too. And as a SHIELD agent. And as an avenger.

...Maybe if he just took another quick look in the right place he would be able to find some useful stuff on the other man. Enough to make him clean his god damn room every once in a while. 

Yes, it may have sounded a bit dramatic but if you had ever smelt Hawkeye's room or stepped foot in it you would see why Sam was willing to take the risk. There was no way he was ever going to pick up after the resident archer ever again! 

"There better not be anything gross in here Clint..."


	2. Chapter One: Wayward Sons

_December 20th, 1998_

_Daddy's been drinking a lot more lately. Mama says its stress. That my hearin' aids cost a lot and we haven' been gettin' much business ever since that department store opened a couple blocks away. I'm worried we may hav'ta sell Gramma's farm to get by. I really love that ol' place. Christmas is coming up and I guess that's good an' all. Daddy doesn't get as angry around the holidays and since I've been keepin' my head down around him more I haven't gotten hit in a while. Mama says that she's gonna go talk to Santa 'bout getting me and Barney something for Christmas. I asked for a puppy but I'm not sure we'll get one...-_

To Sam's horror the first year worth of journal entries were nothing but little drabbles spilling secrets of an alcoholic, abusive father who hurt his kids and wife mercilessly. He had known that Clint had been deaf since he was a young boy but he had never expected it resulted from being beaten within inches of his life for " _talking too much_ " and " _not minding his god damned business_ ". He read on only to make sure that there was some kind of happy resolution to this sad story. That Harold Barton had been hauled off to prison and was currently rotting away inside a cell. Any attempt to google the name was met with a surplus of Harold Bartons, any of whom could have been Clint's father. There was no file on the man at SHIELD and he could not ask Hawkeye about it without letting it spill that he had his old journal. All he could do was read on and hope for a good ending, or hope that Hawkeye had a creative side and this was the opening to some fiction novel he'd started. 

If that wasn't bad enough some of the other avengers had noticed his intense interest in the book and were getting curious. All except for the man the book belonged to who was too busy running errands for SHIELD, training in the city or scarfing down pickles to notice that anything was out of the ordinary. At least he didn't put up much of a fight over his room. They had all been prepared for hell on that one. 

Sam was supposed to be running calculations from Tony in the lab but instead he was flipping through chapters in the archer's journal, reading little bits and fragments left by a child that grew up long ago. It was as interesting as it was horrifying. Journals were like an old fashioned sort of mirror to the past that allowed him to see things from his team mate's point of view back before he could tie his shoes right let alone pick up a bow and arrow and go fight crime. So Sam was sitting against the wall the lab beside the door reading onwards. 

"That doesn't look like calculations to me." A voice said, catching the young avenger off guard and causing him to jump, the journal falling from his hands and onto the floor, open at the page where Sam had left off. "It looks to me like you're catching up on some light reading. What's this? Some old Avengers Fanfiction you wrote back before you joined SHIELD?"

"Holy crap Tony," Sam said with a sigh of relief. "You scared the hell out of me! For a second a thought you were-" Tony couldn't know. "-...Someone else."

"The Hulk?" Tony assumed. "Don't worry about it. He figured out that Bucky was the one who ate the last of his peanut butter. Cap and Tasha are currently trying to get him to put soldier boy down...strangely enough I don't think Bucky necessarily minds. Last I saw Hulk was just sorta holding him above everyone's heads." No one was really sure when exactly The Winter Soldier showed up. One morning they just came down stairs and he and Steve had made everyone breakfast. No really addressed it and usually Bucky just followed Steve around like a puppy trying to adapt to his new surroundings or trained with Widow. Clint attempted to train with the both of them once but gave up in frustration after the two started talking in Russian so they could make fun of the archer. 

Clint's journal was just by Sam's foot, just out of reach. He didn't want to look suspicious but he needed to grab it. Tony couldn't see the book, he couldn't know what it was about and he most definitely couldn't know that it was Hawkeye's! If there was one thing Sam had learned from being an Avenger though, it was that he had the worst luck out of all of them. First with cleaning Clint's room and now with Tony spotting the book he'd been so hung up on finishing and deciding to see what the fuss was about. The genius scooped it up off the floor and started to read from the page it had been open to. 

_December 25th, 1998_

_I...I don't know how to tell you this, me, but in case you've forgotten Mama and Daddy...they died....-_

* * *

December 25th, 1998

The Barton family butcher shop hadn't been located in a nice neighborhood in Waverly so Clint was used to hearing police sirens outside his window every other night at seven years of age. Most of the time they were talking to or arresting their neighbors or confronting some drunk who was causing a ruckus stumbling home late from the bars down the street. He kept window shut out night to drown the noise out some, slept with his blanket and pillow pulled over his head, did whatever he needed to do to try and get some sleep. On most nights, Barney would come into their room late, see his little brother all curled up like that and then remind him that he could just take out his hearing aids and turn them off and that would help him ignore the sounds of the police. On this night however, the sirens seemed louder somehow and Clint just couldn't ignore them. He sat up in bed, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. 

"Wha' are they doin' Barn?" He asked, words slurring together as he tried his best to awaken fully. Once he was fully aware of all going on around him, he noticed his brother's bunk was empty and a surge of panic swept through him. Shawnie Laylor from down the street used to live with her brother but one night the cops came and arrested him and she had to go into the foster system! Petey Quince who used to live next door was woken by police one night because his parents' plane had crashed coming home and they had to tell him that they were dead! If the police were here to tell him that Barney was dead or was getting arrested and he had to go into the foster system...

The child hopped out of bed with renewed vigor and sprinted out of his room and towards the stairs. He could hear voices downstairs. His brother's...and the unmistakable authoritative voice that could only belong to a seasoned police officer. Daddy told him never to talk to the police, to just keep his big god damn mouth shut and his head down and then everything would be alright so he just hung on the stairs and listened to what the cop was saying to Barney. 

"-Went right into the tree head on. He was driving and he was pretty loaded. Died instantly but as for your mother...-"

"What's wrong with her? Is she...?" Barney's voice sounded different. It sounded weaker and shakey, like he wasn't sure what he was saying. But that couldn't have been Barney. Barney always knew what he was doing, what he was saying. Barney was always cool and calm, collected....

"She suffered considerably and died on the way to the hospital. Son, we're going to have to place you and any siblings you have under protective custody until the case is settled, then you're going to be moved to a foster home, unless any family comes forward to take you both in."

"I...I understand...thank you officer."

Clint remained completely frozen on the stairs, thinking over everything that had just been said and letting it all sink in. He...he couldn't believe it. Daddy and Mama were gone...? Gone like how Gramma was gone? He had hoped sometimes that Daddy would go away just not like this and he never had wanted Mama to go with him! The mention of foster care made him shiver. Shawnie told him awful things about her foster family and if those were true he would have been better off here with Daddy getting drunk and hitting him every night. 

The seven year old waited for the officer to leave the shop before dashing down the rest of the stairs and wrapping his arms tightly around his older brother, hugging him for dear life. He wanted his gramma and his mama more in that moment than ever before in his young life. Tears built up in his eyes and he made no attempt to hold them back. He started to sob into his brother's leg, while Barney ran his fingers through his little brother's hair. Tears swelled up in his eyes too but unlike Clint he didn't cry. Barney Barton would never allow himself to look vulnerable in front of Clint. He needed to be strong for both of them. 

* * *

Tony slammed the book shut and glared down at Sam. "This is Hawkeye's." He stated. "This is Hawkeye's and it is...intense." 

"I know." Sam confirmed with a nod. "Found it under his bed while I was cleaning his room. I didn't mean to start reading it, I thought it just may have been a novel or something but then I started and I saw how bad it was and I just...had to know if he was okay."

"Well he isn't exactly an open book about his past but I don't think that reading his journal is a decent way to make up for that...unless there's some really good blackmail material in there and not just eternal sadness and daddy issues."

"You ever notice a lot of the Avengers have daddy issues?" Sam asked him. "I mean Clint, Bruce, you-"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Come on, let's go hunt the hawk down. I think he was in the living room playing video games with the Hulk and Thor the last time I saw him. Maybe if you're nice and we act like we haven't read his journal, he won't try and put arrows through our skulls."

That was probably for the best, for both the team and Sam's work. He couldn't be focused on reading up about a friend's past. He got up off the floor and followed Tony out into the hall, Hawkeye's journal tucked securely under Tony's arm. 

* * *

 

June 18th, 1999

They stayed in Waverly for as long as possible but eventually they had to leave. That what Clint hated the most about the foster system, he decided. Eight years he'd built friendships, learned the lay out of the land, stalked out the best shortcuts to and from school, the movie theater and the park, made himself comfortable in his home and now they were expecting him to start all over again in a different town. They sent them to Omaha which wasn't so far away from Waverly, just in the next state over, but it seemed like it was across the globe for Clint. He wished it could have been closer so he and Barney could have gone to their Mama and Gramma's graves and plant flowers on them like Barney said they would. He missed them terribly.

The first day of school was the worst. They gave him and Barney tests to see what grade they should be put in. Both boys had been home schooled up until that point, to avoid suspicious teachers who may have seen their bruises and broken bones and were able to connect the dots. Barney was placed right where he was supposed to be but Clint...he ended up skipping five grades. He was only seven years old (his birthday was in Summer so he wouldn't turn eight for a while longer) and he was in a class of all 12/13 year olds, along with his older brother. In all honesty he would have been happier flunking back five grade levels. The other kids, they hated him. He was the short, tiny, blonde kid who spoke funny and came to school mid semester. He was smart too which didn't exactly help his new kid status. For the remainder of the school year Clint got beat up behind the school, shoved into lockers, openly mocked and teased...while Barney was the toast of the town. Everyone loved him. He was charismatic and charming. Clint was just his nerdy little kid brother. 

At least that was what the other kids thought. Barney didn't seem to notice that his brother didn't have any friends until Clint's birthday finally rolled around. 

Their foster mom said he could have a party. As far as foster care parents went, she was a better one. Miss May, she told the boys to call her. May baked him a birthday cake and ordered some pizza from the place down the street, Barney got his brother a skateboard and somehow managed to wrap it without revealing what it was, and they got the house ready for party guests. None of the invited people showed up. Clint knew they wouldn't but it still stung. Miss May tried to make him feel better by saying there was more pizza for the three of them now but that didn't lessen much of the pain. 

That night Barney did what he always did when his baby brother was upset. He crawled into bed beside him and let Clint curl up around him and listen to his heartbeat as it lulled him to sleep. It may have been viewed as strange but it soothed Clint, it reminded him that as long as Barney's heart was still beating inside his chest, he had a family and a home. That there was at least one person who wanted him to stay strong and who loved him. Barney's heartsong had been Clint's personal lullaby for as long as he could remember. 

* * *

Clint wasn't in the living room but Thor and the Hulk were. They were currently camped out on the couch in the middle of a thumb wrestling contest when Sam and Tony came in. From the looks of it...it was impossible to tell exactly who was winning. 

"You two seen Hawkeye today?" Tony asked, "Gotta return something to him."

"Went off with Natasha." Hulk replied. "Go away. Fighting to see who's the strongest."

"My friends what is that you carry with you?" Thor asked, and suddenly he lost all interest in fighting with the Hulk over who was strongest. Using his free hand he reached over, snatched the book from under Tony's arm and started to flip through it. "Hey Hulk, listen to this..."

* * *

 

March 2nd, 2000

There was a dance at school and originally Clint didn't plan on going. Dances were still weigh above his age bracket, in his own opinion, and he'd seen _Carrie_ enough times to know that dances never ended well for the school outcast. He was only eight going nine and all these kids were giants compared to him, giants and _teenagers_. Teenagers were cruel and wicked, hormonal and unpredictable. That was the best lesson Clint had ever gotten in his entire public education. Barney was alright but sometimes Clint didn't understand his brother. Like when he decided he and Clint were going to go to that dance whether his little brother liked it or not. 

This was unlike Barney and didn't make a lick of sense to Clint until they got there and Tori Anderson bounced over and pulled Barney away to dance with her, leaving Clint standing there stunned and wondering why anyone in their right mind would want to go off and dance with a _girl_. Girls were fine and all but gettin' all close to them like that was the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen in his whole life. 

With nothing else to do Clint wandered to the back of the school gymnasium and crawled under the bleachers to wait until this monstrosity was over. Little did he know that he wasn't the only one camping out under there. 

"Hey kid." The voice caught him by surprise and he tripped over one of the support beams and fell flat on his back. Three older kids crowded around him, and one girl with dark brown hair and blue highlights offered him a hand to get up. Clint hesitated, but eventually accepted it. She smiled at him warmly and said, "Sorry. Just didn't think they were letting elementary school students in here, let alone under the bleachers."

Clint pouted and stubbornly crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I'm not an elementary student. I'm in Junior High like you." He wasn't making much of a good case, he knew it, but at this point in his existence Clint didn't know many ways of looking tough just yet.

The second girl in the group, a tall black haired girl with bright, dazzling green eyes, laughed and pulled something square and metal out from under her duster. "So you're in middle school like us huh?" She asked. "Well then, you wouldn't mind taking a sip of this to prove it would you?"

As soon as she popped the lid on it, Clint knew exactly what it was, just by the smell. It was a flask filled with alcohol, the very same brand his dad used to drink back before he croaked. His stomach started to hurt at the thought but he had to prove that he was in middle school, just like them. These kids looked like fun and before now no one else ever said a word to him unless it was some kind of insult. Slowly he reached out and took the flask from her. It felt heavy as a brick in his hands, and he almost gagged on the smell but finally he put it to his lips and took a long sip. It tasted awful and burnt his mouth and made him wonder why his dad would drink this stuff all the time, but he did it. After he finished he wiped his mouth and handed the flask back to the girl. 

"Thanks. Refreshing." He lied. 

The only guy in the group, an Asian boy with long hair dyed multiple colors laughed and pulled a smoke out of his jeans pocket. "Nice Blondie, real nice."

Such approval made the younger boy grin despite a growing desire to run to the nearest bathroom and vomit until there was nothing left in his tummy. Instead he said, "Told you I was a middle schooler."

The brunette chuckled and leaned in close to him, until they were only just a couple inches apart. "Oh yeah?" She asked. "One more test to prove it."

"What kind of-" Before he could finish she pressed her lips against Clint's. His eyes grew to the size of saucers and yet he couldn't pull back, couldn't think until she broke the kiss and took a step back. All the color drained from Clint's face and he started to back up out of the bleachers. He had to stay calm. He couldn't panic. He couldn't look like some little kid in front of these guys...

When he and Barney left two hours later, Clint couldn't keep his vomit held back anymore. He ended up puking in the bushes on the walk home. He never did tell Barney why that was. 

* * *

For once both the Hulk and Thor were at a complete loss for words. Slowly, they pulled their thumbs apart and Thor set the journal down on the couch between them. It them both a second to actually think of something to say after listening to the passage. 

"This...this diary belongs to Hawkeye, does it not?" Thor asked. "How did you ever attain permission to read such a personal story?"

Hulk snorted. "Bet'cha they didn't."

"Oh, you know everything now. That it Hulk?" Tony asked, folding his arms in front of his chest stubbornly. "And I didn't do anything wrong. Sam read it first, and then you two so really it is the farthest thing from my fault."

Sam sighed and took the book up off the couch. "Gee thanks Tony." All he wanted to do was get this book off his hands before it ultimately destroyed any friendship he had with the archer. Hearing he, Bucky and Natasha were out, well, it gave him some time to think over what he was going to see to the other man, how he was going to apologize for prying when he could have just asked (not that Clint would willingly give out information like that) and how he was going to make it up to him. Some new arrows would do the trick. 

"So then...where'd Scott run off to? Don't tell me he went with Widow and Hawkeye?" Tony asked, noticing the newest member's lack of appearances that day. Yes, he and Clint had started to get along a bit better now but there was still a lot of ground that they needed to recover to actually consider themselves friends. The genius couldn't remember all that Clint had told him about what had happened between him and Scott, but he knew that it had been bad. 

A familiar voice rang out from across the room. "I'm here! I just miscounted the number of Pym particles I was collecting this morning. Just give me a second!" A moment later Scott returned to his normal size and stretched. "Ugh. Long day. So What's up? What's with the book?"

It was going to be one of those days. Hawkeye was never going to forgive Falcon for this...

* * *

 

August 23rd, 2001

At ten years old Clint was beginning to notice some...strange goings on. After school he started to hang out around the mall, just lounging about and pissing off security guards. Sometimes he'd go to the dollarstore at the end of the mall and steal candy bars and cans of soda. Whenever he'd get frustrated enough, he'd go to the fridge in the garage and drink a couple of the beers May had in the bottom of the fridge. It tasted like shit, it still burnt his throat but he didn't care because it made him forget about whatever was troubling him. 

If Barney ever found out about it he would probably kill him but Clint didn't really care. At this point he just wanted something to do to quell his boredom. 

The only way anyone could tell if Clint had been drinking back then was at night when he was finally too tired to go on. He'd clean up and hide the empty beer cans, then go upstairs and crawl into bed beside his brother and lay half assed on the bed with his head hanging off the side and his cold feet pressing into Barney's back. Barney never 

* * *

"Clint, _Clint Barton_ , keeps a diary?!" Scott asked with a laugh. "Holy crap! Please tell me there's grade A black mail material in there! We could have him doing the Hulk's laundry for years!" 

"Trust me when I saw it's not as funny as we expected it to be." Tony said, still stuck in his slightly stoic-adult, slightly pouty-child mood. He plopped down on the floor in front of floor and started to flip through channels on TV. "It's mainly just sad shit from when he was a kid. Leads up to how he became an Avenger and everything."

Scott's happy demeanor morphed into one of pure fear. "Oh...I see. So, you don't suppose that there's stuff in there from when he was in the circus do you?"

"You knew Hawkeye back then didn't you?" Hulk asked. When Scott's only response was to shrug the big green guy off, a smirk appeared on the creature's face. "You and birdy have some circus secrets the two of us don't know about? I want to read on now." 

Sam sighed and rubbed his temples in annoyance as the journal was opened once again. "Really guys? He's going to try and kill us for doing this?"

Tony just shrugged, "He was going to kill us anyway for looking at it. Might as well read on and see if there's anything he may need some help and support with." 

Yeah, Clint may not have agreed with the resident genius on that stance though. He was going to be royally pissed, he was going to unleash a hell upon the team that they had never before faced in vengeance and worst of all, they were going to place the blame for reading that stupid book square on Sam's shoulders. Wonderful...

* * *

 

October 31st, 2002

Clint got out of the house that night by saying he was going trick or treating. Instead he went to the school and hung out at the baseball diamond. Earlier that day he'd found a pack of cigarettes in the boys' locker room and he wanted to see what the big fuss was about it. He pulled one out of his pocket, lit it up and took a long, satisfying puff. It felt strange...but alright. 

He felt extra rebellious tonight. He wanted to go out, wanted to get in a fight, wanted to drink until he couldn't feel his legs anymore, he wanted to run and never look back on his life here or in Waverly. For now though, he settled on getting into a brawl. Ted and Bill Warner, the two biggest bullies at his school, were loitering around the main doors to the school spray painting obscenities on the walls like they did every Halloween. Clint strut right over to the two of them and socked Ted Warner right in his big ugly face. 

The fight was two against one and Clint was lucky that he hadn't been seriously hurt. He came home branding two black, swollen eyes, a missing tooth and cuts and bruises covering his entire body as his rewards. May screamed and patched him up, Barney demanded to know the names of the guys who did this to him, the usual. Clint couldn't explain why but he felt great. 

This was the best feeling he'd had in a while. 

* * *

Natasha, Bucky and Clint returned to Avengers Tower just a couple hours after they had left. After the disaster that was becoming known as the 'Doom Vacation Scandal' SHIELD had to do a lot of apologizing to a particular super villain. Forced apologizing. Let the record show that Clint would have never willingly apologize for shooting Victor Van Doom in the face with a goo arrow unless he had to for the sake of national security (Not a 100% sure on how that tied together but Fury assured him that it was) and SHIELD. He went straight to his room, ignoring the others who were all crowded around something in the living room. It had been a long day, normally he would have been all over whatever had captured the others' attention, but today he just wanted to sleep. 

The archer groaned and flopped right down onto his bed, not bothering to change out of his uniform. He was out completely cold in a matter of minutes. 

Bucky went off to go and find Steve who was most likely painting something in his room again and Natasha went to see what the big deal in the living room was. 

* * *

 

January 6th, 2003

Billy Warned had started it all. He had been waiting for Clint outside of class and socked him right in the face. Clint had only been fighting back but...well he couldn't remember much of the fight. All he could remember was punching him back in the gut and then he was standing over him in the hallway, other kids swormed around them and Billy was laying at his feet on the floor, blood flowing from his nose then Clint was hauled off to the principle's office and told that he'd broken three of Billy's ribs and his nose. And what could Clint say? Well it had been self defense to start off and he couldn't remember what else had happened to defend such force. 

He was kicked out of school that day and it all went to shit from there. 

Barney turned eighteen in a little while and that meant he was being dropped by the system. He had to get a job, his own place, which wouldn't have been so bad if they would have just allowed Clint to come with him. But no. Clint was still a minor and if Barney wanted custody of his brother it was going to take months of court time and money that the man didn't have. As well, they didn't take too kindly to the news that Clint had gotten kicked out of school for beating up another student and decided that he was going to have to be moved to another home, this time in Florida. 

Clint panicked. He was still only just a kid, he didn't know what to do. He panicked and ran as fast as he could. He didn't know where he was running too, or in what direction he was running, he just packed everything of value into his old backpack and ran. It didn't take Barney long to realize that he was gone and soon the older brother followed suite, chasing him down and making sure he didn't do anything incredibly stupid. Barney had time to pack a small bag but most of his stuff had been left behind. 

They ran until Clint couldn't feel his legs anymore and broke down in the middle of a field. He hated this. Hated them tying to split up his family, hated the weird feelings he kept getting that made him want to do reckless shit like drink and fight and smoke, he hated being unsure and forced to take half-assed charity from the people running the system. He just wanted to go somewhere with his brother where they could be together as a family without all of this bureaucrat bullshit. Somewhere they could go where they wouldn't get beat up for being themselves and could rest easy knowing that they were finally _both_ accepted somewhere.  

Barney caught up to him and sat down beside him in a field. He knew exactly what his brother was thinking, Clint was pretty easy to read when he got like this but he didn't know what to do or to say to make his brother feel any better about this. He sighed and looked around at the field they were in. A couple trucks were pulling off the road and into the field not too far away. He was able to read the writing off the side of one of the trucks and grinned, 

"Hey Clint?" He asked. 

"What?"

"You think about running away with the circus?"


	3. Chapter Two: The Trickshot Origin

Normally getting Hawkeye to leave the rest of the team alone so they could do their own thing was a challenge harder than getting Modok to admit he was the freakiest looking living creature in the universe of defeating the Red Skull or (as the archer would say) apologizing to Victor Van Doom for ruining his vacation without vomiting in your mouth and wanting to rip all your skin off. Lately he couldn't be bothered with any of them. He was gone on missions all hours of the night, slept during the day and ate whenever he was given a free moment. He hadn't showered in days and was beginning to reek but the others hadn't noticed yet so who was he to point it out? 

At 3 A.M. he left to go meet with Fury about some possible threat to the Avengers. It was really down low stuff, hadn't even reached Cap and Tony's ears yet, but apparently Clint could handle it. He was just happy that it was going to be him and Fury this time. Last couple missions he'd had the displeasure of being forced to work alongside some agents he'd rather not see ever again. Clint Barton had done some seriously dumb stuff back when he had first started on at SHIELD, stuff he couldn't make up for, but at least the agents he pissed off could work alongside him without wanting to slit his throat. 

On that morning, if he had bothered to look, Clint would have found the rest of his team sitting in a semi-circle on the training room floor, with a book laying open on the floor in between them all. If he had only bothered to look perhaps things wouldn't have gotten so awkward between his teammates. Clint's life though was nothing more than a series of maybes. Maybe if his father hadn't drank, his parents wouldn't have died. Maybe if he hadn't gotten so moody after puberty, he wouldn't have gotten on the twins' bad list which ultimately lead to him being kicked out of school. Maybe if he had been more open after the accident, his first love would have stayed with him. Maybe if he had just said something to his second love, they could have been something. 

He left the tower and took the subway to meet Fury at the same spot they always met to discuss Avenger/SHIELD business; Central Park. 

If the alarm had gone off that night for an alien invasion or a hostile take over of New York none of the other Avengers would have answered. They had read through Clint's life up until he was thirteen now and although they all had their misgivings about it, none of them could stop reading. They were all very well aware that the archer was going to kill them mercilessly when he found out but even Steve couldn't stop it. Sam had started something by opening the door to Clint's past and now everyone wanted to go through it. He tried to get everyone to stop reading, he really did but believe him when he said it was impossible.

* * *

July 2nd 2004

Jacques was about Barney's age but he'd been with the circus longer than anyone else aside from the ring master and his wife. He had sponsored the two of them to join the group and took control of their training. He taught them everything for throwing knives, to walking on tightropes, to preforming on the trapeze. Clint may have fallen off the latter a couple more times than he would feel comfortable to admit but they progressed as time went on. A couple months back a new girl even joined up with them all. She was about Clint's age, pretty and clever, although she had the weirdest fascination with snakes. Princess Python, they called her and Clint really tried not to be jealous that she had a bitchin' stage name and so did Barney but he hadn't gotten one yet. 

Barney just used the nickname that Clint had called him when they were growing up and would go out and use slingshots and nerfguns to shoot spiders off the barn roof back at gramma's house; Bullseye. 

As far as aim went though, the younger of the two brothers was clearly superior. It was his best skill, out of everything he learned at the circus, and he almost never missed a target. With more practice Jacques was sure that he could have been the best in the world, and compete in archery tournaments all over the world. The Carson Circus had decent box office numbers but if they had a star attraction, someone with pre-existing fame, preforming along with them then they could have brought numbers back up. Jacques loved that old place more than anything. 

In two days they would be performing a big Independence Day show in Central Park for a couple kids. Barney was going to be throwing knives as Bullseye and Princess Python was going on with the acrobats. Clint was going to be performing some small archery stunts, nothing out of the ordinary. He was focusing more on finding the perfect name for himself. Something that summed up his skill with the bow and arrow set and talent. Something...cool. 

He mulled it over long enough during rehearsal for the show that Jacques was able to sneak off without him knowing. The swords master did this at least once a day but it had never been something that Clint had really noticed before. His curiosity got the better of him and he went off to see where his friend was. 

The first thing he noticed was the smell. A circus was never supposed to smell like a bucket of peaches but Clint hadn't smelled something like this before except back when he was in school. It was...familiar but Clint couldn't place it anywhere. He found Jacques leaning against one of the supply trucks and smoking something that didn't look anything like the cigarettes Clint was used to. He saw Clint, frowned and pulled the joint from his mouth to speak. 

"Hey there bud..." He sounded unsure. Like he wasn't sure he could trust Clint with his secret. "What are you doing? You're supposed to be going over your act."

Clint shrugged. "Yeah I guess. So uh...pot huh? Isn't that, you know, illegal?"

"Alcohol is worse than pot but it's legal," Jacques reasoned but he could ready to toss it from his person if necessary. "You going to narc on me?"

"No. Your business is your business...I was just...wondering if you had any ideas about my stage name yet."

"Sorry but no." Now that he knew he was in the clear, Jacques took another hit from his joint. Clint hadn't left yet, hadn't gone back to talk to the others and work on his act. The older boy looked down at what was in his hand and offered it to him. "You want a hit?"

He shouldn't. Barney would definitely kill him for this but...it couldn't have been that different from smoking a ciggy. Slowly Clint reached out and took it, hesitating for a moment before holding it to his lips and inhaling. Almost immediately after he coughed and handed it back to Jacques. He felt strange...but not the strange he expected. He'd seen enough stoner comedies to expect flashing rainbows of colors and hallucinations but...that wasn't the case. He did feel a little lighter though, a little less worried about something as trivial as a name. 

Jacques laughed. "Hehe...trickshot."

"What?" Clint asked. 

"I mean...you're an archer right? And you preforming tricks? So you shoot stuff and perform tricks. Trickshot. That's your name. Trickshot. Rooty tooty point 'n shooty."

"Should I get someone to come out here and help you?"

"I'm serious. Trickshot. Think about it. You could have a real future as that guy."

Trickshot...it left a funky taste in Clint's mouth. Tricks, his archery skills weren't tricks. It was a gift, it was something beyond normal and yet...if he didn't improve his gift that was all anyone would ever think of him as. He'd only ever be one of those performers in the circus circuit, someone who could never blend into the typical rat race of settling down and having kids, a desk job and a boss riding him and drinking and downing his misery for never fulfilling dreams with affairs and nights with the boys in Vegas that would never be discussed again once they returned home...he wasn't normal enough for that but he wasn't...special enough to fit in with the crowd that children worshiped and men envied and women wanted...

Not yet. 

In that moment Clint swore to himself that he would never allow himself to stop training and become one of the typical performers who, while happy at their job, got their thrills from smoking pot when no one was looking. There had to be something more to his life than that. 

* * *

Natasha set the journal back down on the coffee table, folded her hands in her lap and sat back on the couch. She sat quietly for a moment, in a way that was both elegant and utterly terrifying, letting it all sink in before saying, "Well that doesn't surprise me."

Scott raised an eyebrow. Through out the entire reading he had amused himself by playing with a couple of his ants while the Black Widow read out loud to the group. It reminded Sam of being a little kid and going to the library with his mother to listen to some college kid read books to all the little children. The team certainly embraced the role of small children well. "What do you mean Tasha?" The bug expert asked, though his attention was focused solely on Tesla the Ant scurrying up and down his hand in a never ending cycle. 

"Teenage Hawkeye being a drama queen and getting into some misadventures with drugs." She shuddered. "Teenagers...They're all so...hormonal and moody and unpredictable and they all seem to think with their-"

"HEY!" Sam protested, quickly coming to the defense of his entire age bracket despite the truth ringing in the widow's words. "On behalf of teenagers world wide, I would like to say that I take offense to those remarks!" 

"Tell me I'm wrong then."

"I said I take offense to them, I didn't say they weren't dead on."

On that note, it was Thor's turn to take their journal into his big, meaty hands and further their Hawkeye centered learning experience. Though Falcon was still hoping the team would grow bored, or at least get called to go and fight Fing Fang Foom or some other giant man eating dragon beast, so he could snatch up Clint's journal and make _some_ attempt to save this building crisis, he had to admit that Thor reading anything was the best. He stammered over a couple words every now and then but with an accent as rich as that...well...let's just say it was quite entertaining and thrilling. Thor could read the phone book and make it sound interesting. 

* * *

September 27th, 2005

"You sure about this?"

He wasn't sure about anything right now. Any sense of clear thought had seemingly been erased from his mind. Clint could only think about one thing at the moment, and it was beginning to fog over just as quickly. 

"Yeah," The young archer said, his voice hoarse and scratchy, threatening to crack which would be just _peachy_ given his current situation. "Absolutely." 

Princess Pyth-Er...Zelda smirked up at him and pressed her lips against his gently. She was sitting on his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck. Her chest was pressed up against his so closely that he could practically feel her heart hammering away in her chest. Her sweet, supple chest. How this had happened was a blur in Clint's mind. He remembered them training together, working on some acrobat stunts for their next show, and the next thing he knew she was pulling him into the train car she called home, was pushing him onto her bed and straddling him. Yeah, Clint's child-self would have been punching him in the face for this but he really didn't care. 

His hands were trembling and for once Clint didn't know what to do with them. He started by placing them on her hips and ran them up and down her sides. This was the farthest he'd ever gotten before...This was new territory here. Zelda seemed to notice because she pulled back with a laugh, 

"You're such a dork!" She exclaimed. "Here, I'll help." 

Before Clint could say a single word or even take a deep breath Zelda took hold of his hands and placed them on her breasts and the noise the archer made in response was definitely not human. They were so soft...and squishy...Hesitantly, Clint ran his thumb over one of Zelda's nipples and blushed a deep shade of red at the moan she let out. Oh that was hot, sent any blood he had left in his brain rushing straight to his lower region. He wasn't sure how exactly Zelda would react to that. She could certainly feel him poking her with how they were sitting.

Her response was to giggle immaturely and rock back against it, making Clint moan on purpose. This whole adventure was making his brain cells cry, and his dick scream out and practically beg for what was going to happen next....-

" _PRINCESS!_ " 

Jacques burst into the trailer clad in his performance wear, sword bounding at his side with every step. He froze when he saw what his younger companions were doing, and almost every ounce of color drained from his face. "...Oh..."

_Rip Clint's Boner_. Zelda leaped back off him and onto the bed, scowling and blushing madly. Clint inched back a bed, though he needed not to, and looked down at his lap to try and avoid meeting anyone's eye contact. Instead he sat there, mourning his boner. Well this sucked...

"What do you want Jac?" Zelda asked though it came out more as a hiss. Clint hated it when she did that. She spent way too much time around that snake of hers...it was freaky and not in any kind of good way. 

"Ringmaster....wanted to...talk to...you about the...the uh...the show next week....I didn't realize...realize that you two are um...are dating."

"We're not." Clint and Zelda said in unison, and locked eyes but quickly looked away again. This was the most embarrassing moment of his entire life. The fourteen year old wanted nothing more than to crawl under Zelda's bed and hide. "It's just a...a thing. It happens."

Never let anyone say that good ol' Jacques was never understanding. He nodded and shuffled awkwardly in the doorway, waiting for one of them to make the next move. Finally Zelda gave up and left the swordsman and the archer to their own devices in her car. Clint didn't know what to do. Jacques was his friend, kinda like his brother in a way, he looked up to the guy and your idol seeing you while you and your other friend are grinding against each other and touching tits is not exactly something anyone ever wants to have happen in their lifespan. Jacques made the first move. He sat down on the edge of the bed by the archer's feet, and offered him a gentle smile. 

"It's okay, you know?" He said. "It's not like I'm angry with you."

"Yeah...Yeah I know."

"...Can I ask you something though?"

"What's that?"

"...Why'd you pick Zelda?"

And just like that Clint lost any and all sense of logical thought process again. "What?" 

The older male shrugged nonchalantly. "I mean...why her? Out of anyone you could be friends with benefits with...why not me instead?"

Clint was brilliant when he put his mind to things. He could come up with battle plans, strategies, types of arrows and new moves for his act that would blow anyone's minds. Today was not one of those days when he thought with his brain though. Today another relatively large and powerful organ was calling the shots. 

"Night's still young. I've gotten to first and second base today...wanna see if I can slide into third?"

* * *

"OH MY GOD THOR STOP!" Sam cried out and knocked the journal from the Thunder God's hands, his face completely red and seeming to be the only one who actually could react to what they were reading. _Hawkeye wrote about touching Princess Python's boobs and sucking The Swordsman's dick! In such detail that Sam actually felt like he was listening to some weird kind of erotica that just so happened to involved one of his closest friends!_ "I'M GOING TO NEED SOMEONE TO PLEASE ERASE MY MIND OF THAT!"

Tony was smirking. Actually smirking because of this. He was the only one who seemed to be amused by the Archer's escapades. Hulk and Thor looked completely stunned and for once neither seemed to want to make any smug comments or metaphors about smashing, Scott was chewing on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood while his attention to Tesla The Ant had diminished and Natasha was just staring off into space. Slowly she stood up, pale as ever and her legs shaking.

"I..." She said slowly. "Can't get that image out of my head..."

_Fourteen year old Hawkeye on his friend's bed, sucking another, older friend's dick, sloppily..._

"Oh dear god..." 

Thor snapped out of his temporary daze and shot the spy a look. "Yes?"

"Not you Sparky." Hulk mumbled, having a more difficult time getting the image of teenage Hawkeye out of his head. "So um...when does Ant man get in on this? I'm only listening because I think he and Cupid have something to hide."

Scott folded his arms stubbornly in front of his chest and looked away. "So you know everything do you Hulk?" He asked. They'd both done a good job covering everything up, moving past what happened and starting over. Digging this up again now was not going to be good for either of them, or for the team. 

Tony kept on smirking and picked Clint's journal up off the floor. He placed it in his lap, flipped open to where they had left off, and started to read, once again reminding Sam all about that story lady in the public library and how she'd smile at them all while she read on. Only she had never read them any books about their friend sucking off a guy five years older than him when he was fourteen and in a traveling circus. "That comes next...-"

* * *

January 1st, 2006

After their ticket sales went into the crapper again Ringmaster and his wife started talking with other shareholders in the circus about bringing in something new. Some new act, or new tech to the show that could draw in a crowd. The couple as well as Barney and Jacques were off talking to some guy about a position as their tech manager while the others stayed behind to try and enhance their acts. The Strongman was chatting it up with the Gambonno twins, trying to see if he could talk them into letting him toss them up on to the tightwire to boost both acts, Princess Python was tuning up her snakes and he was shooting at whatever possible target hit his eye. The back of Ringmaster's train car, the Human Cannonball's poster, an annoying little mosquito who didn't seem to want to leave him alone. It was quite peaceful until the baby started crying. 

Wait a second...since when did they have a baby?

Clint looked back over his shoulder and saw a familiar crowd of faces coming towards the leftover performers. Barney and Jacques were walking on either side of a guy, about seventeen years old, and crying a sobbing little baby. Ringmaster and his wife were following along close behind them. By now the others had noticed their arrival and were circling to see what this was all about. Clint hung back a bit, surveying the situation from afar as he was best at. The baby was pretty cute looking though it cried and whined like no one's business and it's face was completely red and soaked with tears.

"Everyone," Ringmaster announced. "This is Scott Lang, our new tech director. He's going to bring our circus into the 21st century! He and his daughter Cassie are going to be staying with us all from now on!"

The circus was family and family stuck together, lived together, etc. Clint edged forward a bit in the crowd to try and get a better look at the new guy. One look at him though, and the Archer's heart stopped. _Oh no...he was really, really hot!_  

Scott must have noticed the archer dressed in five different shades of purple staring awkwardly and pretty obviously at him because the next thing Clint knew, he was holding his free hand out for Clint to shake. "Like he said, I'm Scott Lang. This is Cassie." The baby wailed a little louder. "Nice to meet you."

Oh god. Oh got the hot guy expected him to talk. Oh what were words. Clint remained frozen in place, the blood rushing immediately to his face as his hands started to quiver. Oh god how did one English? Oh crap...Oh crap he couldn't remember...

"Are you alright man?" Scott asked, "You look a little sick? What's your name."

What Clint said next he would regret for the rest of his life. Instead of saying something witty and clever, the archer managed to get out, in a weak, broken and cracked voice that made his stomach twist up into a knot, "Trickshot. I'm Trickshot." Clint really hated that name. More so now than ever. The next time he came up with a better title, he was _so_ taking it! 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter Three: When The Lights Go Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Went over my plot outline for this story and realized that I did have an opportunity to mention the Earth's Mightiest Heroes Verse and still make it fit, but just barely, and I really wanted to have characters like T'Challa and Carol around so I'm going to try and make it work. Bare with me.

Chapter Three: When The Lights Go Down

  
January 8th, 2006   
  
A week went by and Clint still hadn't said a word to Scott since their first encounter. He tried to focus on something else, anything else, to get him out of his head. He worked on his act, learned how to shot the impossible shot without looking, he went and learned some new acrobatic skills so he could do flips and twirls along with the twins while shooting apples off the heads of crowd volunteers, he wrote music, played the crumby old acoustic guitar Barney bought back when they preformed in Nebraska, he tried everything in his power to forget about Scott Lang but for some reason he just couldn't. He was fascinating...and Clint hadn't had a proper conversation with the guy yet.

  
Barney seemed to think that music could have been incorporated into his younger brother's act somehow so that was what Clint tried his best to work on. Song lyrics, original stuff so they didn't have to pay out the ass for royalties. Unfortunately he just couldn't seem to get the lyrics right. They all came back to the same old thing. Sappy, sappy love songs. It was the most infuriating thing on the planet!  
  
That morning Barney left to go talk with the other shareholders about new recruits, about scouting out some more talent to bring in and see if that would boost any ticket sales so it was just Clint along in the train car they were calling home. For a while the circus had used trucks but when they began to loose money, downgrading seemed like the best option. Hardly anyone used trains anymore and they were able to buy an old one with a couple cars pretty cheaply and their trucks brought in enough to make it affordable. The Barton brothers' car was painted purple on both the inside and out. They slept in one bed, as they had done since they were both small children, and it was nothing more than a mattress on the floor with a couple blankets, pillows and the stuffed bird Barney had won for Clint back in '94 when the carnival passed through Waverly. An old dresser was pressed up against the far wall which contained all of the older brother's clothes while Clint stored his clothing in a chest by the foot of their mattress. On the left wall Barney hung up all of his throwing knives and a couple posters for his favorite movies, actors and athletes. Time Bandits, Edward Norton, Michelle Kwan, etc. while Clint's wall was decorated with his bows, arrows and a couple posters for the Blade Runner and Lost and Scrubs. The rest of the car was pretty bare with only a couple of random possessions spread around including their guitar, a stack of books and an old tv. Clint sat crosslegged on the floor in front of the bed, strumming and trying to think of decent lyrics.  
  
" _Everything and more, you're brighter than the sun shine_  
 _Now you're here and you don't know why_  
 _I was traveling alone and you were with your little one_  
 _I see you through the smokey air..._ "  
  
Yuck. How did he come up with this stuff? He needed a new approach. Something more...about him.   
  
" _Small town boy,_  
 _All alone in the world,_  
 _looking for a moment where he can find some joy..._ "  
  
Uh. That worse than the last one.  
  
"DAMN IT!" Why was it so hard to write music? If Coldplay could do it so could he!  
...Maybe he should try writing country music. All of that was the same. Dog, daughter, wife, truck, drinking and repeat. How hard could that be?  
  
Before he could sketch out possible lyrics to the world's most generic country song there was a knock on the door to the train car door. He groaned, set the guitar down and went to answer it. Jacques never knocked, neither did Princess Python and Barney had no reason to knock. He didn't know who this was...  
  
He didn't have time to stand up and answer it. The doors to all the cars didn't have locking mechanisms, and it wasn't as if anyone in the circus would want to steal anything from one another to begin with. They weren't thieves, they were performers. He looked over, and his mouth went completely dry. Scott stood in the doorway, hands on his hips, and looking into the Bartons' domain.  
  
"Are you okay Trickshot?"  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"I mean are you okay? You were swearing at something."  
  
Clint shrugged, "Just...just trying to work on something for my act. Bring in something new to the show, you know?" Scott would know about new things. He was bringing their show into the new century, making them stars...or at least trying to. Clint wasn't a hundred percent sure how well that was working.  
  
“I like your old act. You’re an amazing shot. How’d you get that good?”  
  
…Was he kidding right now? Clint wasn’t as good as identifying sarcasm as he was at dishing it out. “Thanks.” He said, hoping blood wasn’t rushing to his face. “But have you seen Princess’ act yet? She’s pretty great…”  
  
Scott looked back over his shoulder to where the other performers had begun trying to practice for their next show. Princess was working with her snakes trying to teach them some new dances moves but it was nearly impossible to do the Macerena when you didn’t have hands. He grinned and looked back at Clint, “Want to go watch her together?”  
  
Clint chewed on his lower lip nervously. What was this guy’s deal? He had a daughter; it was clear what he was into, so why wasn’t he hitting on Zelda? She was hot, really hot and less than twenty feet away but here he was, talking to Clint.  
  
“You mean like a-“  
  
“Kinda like a date. I mean I don’t know anywhere else we could go. Both of us need to stay close in case we’re needed but watching the others and goofing off for a couple hours…It could be fun right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Clint said with a nod. “Sounds fun.”  
  
He followed Scott over to the others, hands in his pockets and trying to wrap his head around what this guy’s deal was. He could be bi like Clint was but if so, why didn’t he go after Barney or Jacques? He needed to stop thinking about this kind of stuff so religiously. It was fully possible that Scott just wanted to get to know him better after such a crappy introduction. Plus if it went anywhere…Clint wouldn’t exactly be opposed to it.

  
  


March 11 th , 2006

Clint had never been much for babies but Cassie Lang was the cutest thing he'd ever encountered on planet Earth, including all dogs, which was saying something because all dogs were perfect! Only a couple months old, her mother and father had been dating during their senior year of high school when she was conceived. After she was born Scott was given full custody so her mother could attend college without having to worry about Cassie's well being but she did have visitation rights whenever she could. Cassie looked more like her father too. Her hair was the same strawberry blonde and they had the same bright eyes, it was completely adorable.

Whenever Scott was needed to work on the tech for their show or design some new arrows for Clint, the archer took over in babysitting. And no, it was not just because he thought her dad had pretty eyes. He genuinely liked the kid.

“I thought you hated babies.” Barney mumbled, passing by his little brother currently amusing the child by pulling faces. “I thought that puppies were the only babies you could withstand.”

Clint scowled and got a giggle out of Cassie in the process. She didn't seem to know that this face wasn't for her. “No one hates babies. They just hate them when they're...you know...crying nonstop and throwing up and pooping all over the place.”

“Dogs poop everywhere.”

“You can train them not to though.”

“What do you think parents do with their kids?”

If looks could kill Barney would have been reduced to ash. Cassie burst out into a fit of little giggles though so that counted as a win. She was about the easiest baby anyone could have hoped for. She didn't cry, she didn't throw up when she was burped and as far as diaper changes went, they were far between. Most of the time she was with Clint she slept anyway, which was just fine by his account. It wasn't hard to tell that she was overly fond of her father's somewhat-boyfriend. If she was in his care and wasn't asleep, odds were she was giggling over something he was doing.

Sometimes Scott would watch the two of them from wherever he was working for the day. Trickshot was one of the weirdest people he'd ever met...but there was something about him. Something he couldn't explain that made him want to see him happy and be around more and more. They weren't exactly dating but...it was a possibility.

 

* * *

 

June 3rd, 2006

It wasn't until late in June that they actually became a couple. This month they were touring around the great state of Texas and, as usual, the weather there was killer. The other performers complained immensely about the Ringmaster and his wife's choice but Clint couldn't care less. Warm weather didn't bother him and gave him a vital opportunity to work on getting rid of his farmer's tan. Barney and he worked on their acrobatic skills most of the morning it happened. Should the twins ever retire from the Carson Circus, they would be fully prepared to step in and take over for them. That was how you stayed ahead in this business, learning new things so if one act grew stale, you could easily move onto the next.

Scott spent his morning rigging up some trick arrows for Clint and ate breakfast and lunch while watching the brothers perform. Cassie was left in the care of the Ringmaster's wife for the day so he could actually get work done and things were quiet. The others didn't seem to have the willpower to move around too much in the heat and spent that day quietly cooped up in their cars.

Around lunch Jacques arrived to collect Barney.

“Ringmaster wants to say ya,” He explained, sweating through the already thin fabric of his shirt. Clint was standing roughly twenty feet away from the guy and he could still smell it. “There's talk that a couple casinos in Vegas are looking for acts. He's trying to put our name in but he needs all shareholders to do that.”

Barney nodded and started to follow him out. He stopped when he got to the door though and looked back over at Clint, standing there awkwardly, in purple gymnast tights, in the hottest weather they'd seen all year, sweating profoundly despite his lack of a shirt. “You,” He said. “Should go change and then hang out with Scott or Zelda for the day. Just...you know...go put on some pants first.

“Or don't and have a party.” Jacques suggested with a teasing grin. That comment earned him a punch in the gut for the oldest Barton and he left before he could be on the receiving end of another. Barney ran out after him, grinning and laughing, and leaving Clint to his own devices. He turned to Scott who was still sitting on the ground, working on the arrows and eating an apple.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“You want to go into town and hang out? I'll let you pick, whatever you want to do, I'll be up for it.” The minute he said those words, Clint got an overwhelming urge to take them back. Poor word choice was going to be his downfall.

“Anything?” Scott asked with a devious smirk that gave the younger male a nervous feeling in the very depths of his stomach. Whatever he was planning, it couldn't have been something good, but Clint had made his choice in words and had to stand by them. It was part of being a speaker of the English language.

“Yeah,” Clint said, and tried to fake being confident. “Anything you want.”

“Your brother won't like it.” Scott warned him, but stood up and started making his way over to where Clint was standing.

“Since when does he like or approve of anything I do?”

What had he gotten himself into this time? Oh well. Barney was the one who suggested he go hang out with Scott in the first place. Really, if Clint ended up being stabbed and left for dead in an alley, or needing to have a really embarrassing chat with a doctor or other medical professional, it would be all Barney's fault. Not his.

Scott stopped walking when he was directly in front of Clint and pulled his shirt down so the archer could see his collarbone. Cassie's name was tattooed in light, pink ink between two tiny little hearts, one a bright shade of red and the other a dark, deep shade of purple. Underneath her name was the date September 17th, 2005 in the same shade of pink as her name.

“I got it just after she was born.” Scott started to explain. “In case her grandparents convinced her mom to put her up for adoption and I know this is going to sound silly but I also put it there to-”

“To remember.” Clint interrupted him. He reached out slowly to trace the letters etched into his skin, marveling at the beauty of something so simple. Tattoos, tattooing someone you didn't want to forget's name onto your skin, so they would be there with you no matter what. Why hadn't he thought of something like this before? “It's beautiful.”

The older man nodded and laughed a bit, “I was hoping you'd say that because I was thinking...maybe we could go and get some together.”

“Of what?” Clint asked. “You have Cassie's name. Who else is there you want to remember?”

“You.”

“...Oh.” _OH!_ “Yeah, sure. I...I'd be honored to...yeah.” He couldn't think right today. Why was it so hard to talk to this guy!? He didn't know what Scott wanted him to say or do next so he just stood there awkwardly and feeling...under dressed. He should have listened to Barney and put on proper pants before initiating conversation. Damn it.

To his surprise Scott didn't seem upset in the least. He laughed a bit more, and grinned down at Clint. “You're so ridiculous.” He said, and then leaned down and kissed him.

It wasn't Clint's first time being kissed by someone before but back then he had been horrified, and a child, it only lasted a couple seconds and as soon as it was over Clint wanted to get as far away from the girl who'd kissed him as possible. This time it was better. It lasted better, and instead of making Clint want to run away and find Barney, he wanted to stay.

When they did leave the grounds that the circus had set up to practice upon, and found a tattoo parlor in town, Clint picked to have it on a spot of his body that Barney hardly ever saw despite their close living quarters. Couple or not, Barney would not hesitate to beat Scott within inches of his life for convincing Clint to get one and the archer preferred to have his boyfriend alive and in one piece. It made things a whole lot easier.

November 22 nd , 2006

“You want to go where?”

“To see a movie. I'll be with Scott and Princess if that helps.”

“Tonight? We have a huge show tonight Clint! If all goes well we'll be have jigs in Vegas for years to come! And you want to blow that all off to go and see...what was it called again?”

“... Tenacious D in the Pick of Destiny...”

“For the love of god!”

Clint didn't see what the big problem was. He wanted to go out with his boyfriend and his friend and see what was guaranteed to be the best movie of the entire year! Big show or not, he wanted to go out and enjoy other things in life besides the circus. It may have been his job but there had to be a couple days off every now and then. “Can't you just cover for me?”

“I've been covering for you for the past couple of shows!” Barney exclaimed. “You need to take some responsibility for once! This is your job! I'm beginning to think that hanging out with Scott isn't the best thing for you right now...”

Clint sighed and folded his arms stubbornly in front of his chest. Barney had been saying crap like this ever since he found out how serious he and Scott were getting. It was one of those protective big brother things. Weird. Clint would never be able to understand what made them all tick. He sat down on the end of their bed, watching Barney pace around the car. It didn't help that this show was really going to determine where their team went in the next couple of years.

“Come on. I promise I'll be back before it gets really dark and we're going to a theater. Not like we're ditching work to go to a motel. I promise that I'll work super hard on my act for the next show! Please Barney!”

One of the perks of being of the adorable younger brother, the older one just couldn't say no to you. Barney bit down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, shifted awkwardly before finally giving in. He collapsed onto the bed beside Clint and sighed loudly. “...You better.” He was getting sick and tired of pulling on the Trickshot costume after he did his own act to cover Clint's dumb ass. It was what brothers did though.

Princess Python and Scott came by to pick up Clint a short while later and the three hitch-hiked to the theater however Princess was the only one who went inside and bought a ticket to go see the movie. She had agreed to cover for them in case Barney started to ask questions, in return for them paying her way in and supplying her with enough money for popcorn. Once they saw her in, the two teens headed over to the motel a down the street and got a room. For a while they had been contemplating doing something that just couldn't be done properly when you lived with either a baby or shared a mattress for a bed with your brother. It would only be for around an hour or so, long enough for the movie to cover them and for them to return before anyone got suspicious. 

Clint was a bit nervous to start off. The farthest he'd ever gotten was occasionally sucking of Jac's cock or eating Princess' pussy but that had all stopped since he started going out with Scott. He followed him into the room, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie and chewing nervously on his lower lip. He was so nervous now, more than he had been when he first started performing for people. Scott got the door open and held it open for him, which somehow made the butterflies in Clint's stomach more nervous. He entered and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching as Scott entered, shut the door behind him and then finally sat down beside Clint. 

"So." He said slowly. "How do you want to start? You still want to do this? I mean....We can just make out some if you want."

"No...This is good. You and me...this is good." He smiled but knew to Scott it probably seemed nervous and fake. To prove he didn't want to back out of what they had planned, Clint leaned over and pressed his lips against Scott's. The other seemed to get the hint and wrapped his arms around Clint's waist, guiding him up into his lap. Clint wrapped his arms around Scott's shoulders and started grinding against him gently. It worked with Princess, why wouldn't it work with Scott? The older male laughed a little and pulled apart from him. 

"How about I lead?" He asked, "Like dancing. This is just like dancing." 

"Scott, you know that the only dance I know how to properly do is the Macarena, you leading is the probably the best way to go." Clint laughed a bit himself. That was all that could really be done in these some what awkward situations though, laugh. He kept laughing while Scott slide into control. He pushed Clint down onto his back and crawled over him, grinning and laughing, and ran one of his hands under Clint's shirt and hoodie while the other rested on his hip and kept him in place. Clint caught on to what he was doing and started to work on taking off Scott's shirt.

Once that garment was out of the way Clint started to work on Scott's pants and boxers and took the extra time to admire the tattoo on his hip that he had gotten for him. It was adorable, it was beautifully done but it didn't say Clint's real name. Trick, it said. Scott loved Trick, but no one knew how he felt about Clint. They were one in the same and yet very different. While he was mulling this over Scott got his clothes off and tossed it into the pile with his own on the floor. He reached and felt around for his backpack and, upon locating it, reached inside and pulled something rectangular and in foil out. 

"You know how to put one of these on right?"

"Of course I do." He didn't. For all the crap he'd done with Jac and Princess, Clint had never once been required to use a condom and he hadn't gotten to that class yet in sex ed before dropping out of school. "You put it on though. It'll look sexy." He'd learn from watching Scott do it. 

If Scott had any idea about the lack of experience his boyfriend had he said nothing about it. He just smiled down at Clint, pulled the condom from the wrapping and slide it on over his cock. Clint watched, trying to get the basics down in his head for next time. Couldn't look like that big of a dork in front of his boyfriend. He wasn't aware that he was staring until Scott pointed it out to him with another short laugh,

"If you're this amazed now, let's see how you react when this is actually inside you."

Clint blushed heavily at the thought. "Well then...get on with it. We're running out of time and if Barney finds out what we're really up to-"

"You don't want any prep or lube?" Scott asked. "That's a bit dangerous for your first time Clint...you sure?"

"Jesus Christ!" Clint exclaimed and flipped over so he was on his hands and knees, ass in the air and face down into one of the pillows. "Just put it in already!" 

Scott rolled his eyes and wondered how exactly Clint had taken the lead on this but still complied and did what was demanded of him. He placed his hands on Clint's hips to hold him in place and pressed in slowly with a hiss. Clint gasped and bit down hard on the pillow, well aware that he had no idea where said pillow had been and could have been covered in thousands of germs, but didn't say a word. His ass burned and naturally Scott was met with resistance but it still felt good in a way. Scott waited until Clint told him it was okay to move before pulling his hips back and then pushing forward again. Clint let out another loud gasp and pressed back eagerly. 

" _Scoooot....!_ "

They didn't last long. It was overwhelming for Clint, being his first time and all, and he ended up cuming after roughly twenty minutes. Scott followed suit soon after and collapsed beside him on the bed. Next time would be longer, and hopefully they'd have more time the next go around. As they were getting dressed Clint looked over at his boyfriend, pulling on his shirt over some newly made scars courtesy of Clint, and thought about the next time. There would have to be a next time. He wanted it and looked forward to it, looked forward to spending more and more time with Scott. He was beginning to think that...he may have fallen in love with him. Clint couldn't say that now though. Not when he wasn't sure _exactly_ how Scott felt about him. Perhaps next time, he thought, and smiled happily. The two then checked out and went back to the theater to pick up Princess with their arms wrapped tightly around each other's shoulders as if they would never let the other go. 

When the three were leaving the theater a couple firetrucks went by, followed by police cruisers and even an ambulance. They called a cab to take them back to the grounds they set up shop on, so to speak, and were greeted by mass hysteria, the overwhelming scent of smoke and ashes and police officers running around everywhere. None of their fellow circus performers were anywhere in sight.

“Cassie?!” Scott called out, panic ringing clearly in his voice, and he ran off to try and locate his daughter. Princess Python stayed at Clint's side and grabbed hold of his sweater. She ran her fingers along the fabric to try and distract herself from the chaos and keep a level head. Everything was going to be okay. Everybody was probably fine. It was probably just...a grass fire.

The sound of a baby crying hit Clint like a brick. He ran towards it, hoping to find Cassie safe and sound. Whatever had happened...she had to be alright. If something happened to a baby and Clint wasn't there to protect her...

Ringmaster was holding her against his hip and talking to an police officer scribbling something down in a notepad. His face was red and puffy and streaked with tears. Clint really hoped it was because he'd gotten too close to the flames. He didn't know what he'd do if someone had gotten hurt here today and he wasn't around to try and prevent it. He shouldn't have gone to that stupid movie...

“Six causalities....” The officer drawled out, his voice monotone and unfeeling, this was just another day at the office for him. He didn't know the victims so why would he care? They were just faceless names to him. “Two circus personal and four crowd members. Three of which were under the age of eighteen.”

It felt like the air had been completely ripped out of Clint's lungs and he could know longer breathe. People...people were dead...two of their own and...and kids? How could this have happened? If he'd been there...maybe he could have stopped it somehow, maybe he could have saved someone. The archer felt tears building up in his eyes. Was it Jac? He hadn't seen him since they got back. Or it could have been one of the twins. If one lost the other, they wouldn't know what to do. Twins needed to be together.

He was about to run off and find Barney to see who it was when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Clint looked back around and saw Jacques standing there, his eyes filled with tears and soot covering his face and the top half of his costume. He tried to smile at his friend, tried to be comforting, but he didn't have the strength to. He jerked his head over in the direction of the Ringmaster. “The missus,” He said weakly. “Tried to...to help them kids get out. She didn't make it.”

“Jesus....” Clint mumbled. “...I don't know if Ringmaster can survive without her. What do you think he's going to do know? And who else Jac? Is it one of the twins? The Strongman?”

Jac shook his head sadly. “Nah...they're doing fine. Went to the hospital for injuries but they'll be...they'll be alright....” He sighed. “Clint, I don't know how to tell you this but your brother's dead. Barney, he...he's gone bud.”

No. That couldn't be true. Clint had just talked to him earlier...he couldn't have been dead. This had to be some kind of cruel trick or a way of breaking the news of the chaos to his young friend easier. Make him think that his brother was dead but then when he was revealed to be alive and someone else was being hauled off in a body bag, he'd feel relieved instead of miserable. The archer found himself laughing and patted Jac on the back,

“Really funny buddy now where is he? Did Barn put you up to this? You got me. You really did.”

Jacques didn't laugh. He just stood there trying to smile comfortingly at his friend and failing terribly. Clint's laughter died in his throat and the air around them seemed suddenly thin. He looked around through the crowd for any sign of his brother, for any glimpse of red hair and the outrageous color scheme of the trickshot costume. All he saw was a steady wave of panicked strangers in dark clothing stained with ash, and the Ringmaster talking to Scott and handing Cassie back over to him, and suddenly he felt like he was a million years away from them. His head started to spin and the next thing he knew, Clint was on the ground and Jac was shaking his shoulders and trying to get him to stand up. The others were around him soon, Ringmaster and Princess Python and Scott, but they still seemed worlds away. Clint blacked out and woke up in a hospital room some hours later. His head was pounding and someone had taken the liberty of turning down his hearing aids and he was alone. Truly alone. Clint didn't have much experience with death before in his life but he imagined that this was what dying felt like. A soul crashing emptiness and realizing you were completely on your own and then laying there waiting for it to end, waiting for someone to come and see you but they would never be able to.

If Clint had been Trickshot that night, Barney would have still been alive. He realized laying in that hospital bed that he hated Trickshot.   
  
\------------------------------------------------  
“ _December 8_ _th_ _, 2006,_

_They couldn't bury Barney or Ringmaster's wife for a few weeks after the fire because the police and firemen were still investigating the cause of it. They couldn't afford much but the two were buried in a small, peaceful little cemetery on the outside of Orlando beside each other and under a big pine tree. There wasn't much of a service. A couple performers got up and talked about how important Barney and Ringmaster's wife were, and how their family would never be whole again without them. Jacques placed Barney's favorite throwing knife over his grave while Ringmaster planted some red and white roses over his wife's. I didn't say anything. I just stood in the back the entire time with Scott and Cassie. Scott was quiet too but he didn't let go of my hand for the entire thing and although Cassie was too young to know what was going on, she whined a lot and cried a bit at the end. But it wasn't typical baby cries for food or to be changed. She just cried until they were back at the cars, an d then she curled up between me and her dad and fell asleep for the night.”_ Tony finished reading and set the book down on his lap. He sat there for a few seconds, collecting his thoughts, before saying,  “When Clint told me that you and him had a history Scott...I never thought he meant in that way.” Clint Barton and Scott Lang...I never would have ever seen that one coming.”

Scott shifted awkwardly. His past relationships weren't something he liked to discuss in detail, especially after what happened between him and Clint. Their breakup hadn't been what one would consider a good one. Even all these years later Scott wasn't happy with how that had gone down. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to focus on little Tesla.

“...It makes sense to me...kinda. Not really. I don't get you or Clint though so...” Sam said with an eye roll. “Are we done with the journal now? Hulk found out what secrets you and bird-boy were hiding and if we read anymore, Scott may get uncomfortable-”

“Since when do we care about how the man of ants feel?” Thor asked. For a centuries year old thunder god he certainly didn't understand personal boundaries. Someone was going to have to try and explain that to him fully someday. Sam would but all his past attempts to teach the Asgardian properly about Midgardian habits had failed horribly and recovering Clint's journal was his top priority.

He reached for it but Natasha was faster. She took the journal into her hands and slipped open to where they had left off. Clint was her closest friend, she'd been with him for most of his time at SHIELD and all of his time as an Avenger but before he signed up she knew almost nothing about him. It was irritating. As his best friend, Natasha wanted to know as much about him as possible. Also she was a super spy. Any chance she got learn something new, she jumped on it.

“Let's see what happened next in the mess that Clint Barton calls his life...”

“His journal is like our own personal soap opera!”

What had Sam gotten himself into? He should have left that damn book where he'd found it. Hell, he should have never entered his team mate's room in the first place! Short straw or not, any dirt he was able to collect on Clint or Scott from the book was not worth this!   
________________________________________  
August 2007  
  
"Trick?"  
  
"Mmmfff..."  
  
"Trick you gotta get up."  
  
"Mmmmno..."  
  
"You can't stay in bed like this. I know you're still trying to get over what happened but you need to get up. It's been a year bud."  
  
"Jac just go away."  
  
One year. One horrible, shitty year. Barney was gone and Clint was alone in the world, the last of his entire family, a lone wolf. Clint didn't go back on with the others for an entire year. He just laid in bed watching Cassie while Scott went out and worked for Ringmaster on whatever new piece of tech he wanted. Scott knew that his boyfriend was in a dark place, that he needed patience and time to figure everything out for himself and get over it. He gave him the room he needed and Clint was grateful for that. Sometimes the others would come to his car though, and look at all of Barney's knives still hanging on the wall, and sigh and try to force Clint up and out of bed. Like Jacques was trying to do. After two hours though of half-assed conversation, the other man gave up and left the archer in his misery.  
  
Everything around here reminded him of his brother and yet he couldn't get rid of anything. If he got the family curse and did end up forgetting about Barney...he needed something to remind about his big brother and everything he had done to look after Clint. Forgetting Barney protecting him, basically raising him and teaching him right from wrong...he couldn't let that happen.  
  
Cassie seemed to get it. Every day she just curled up against him and spent the day sleeping, eating and occasionally going to the bathroom, just like how Clint spent his days now. It got a tiny bit boring every now and then but it wasn't as if he had something better to do. The only reason he hadn’t been fired from this job yet was because they couldn’t afford to loose someone else. Ringmaster’s wife was gone, Barney was…gone and those kids, Clint couldn’t get those kids out of his mind. Their parents hadn’t let the circus go quietly. On top of their attendance being back down the tubes, everyone was facing huge lawsuits and settlement payments and trying to rebuild after what could only be called a disaster. They were sinking fast in red ink and Clint didn’t have the strength to get out of bed and face it with his team.  
  
He fell asleep again and when he woke up hours later Clint wasn’t alone in his car.  
  
Ringmaster stood by the bed, hands in his pockets, and gazing down at him and Cassie as they tried to sleep. If Clint hadn’t been used to this kind of behavior he may have been disturbed. Since the fire, waking up to find concerned faces looking over him was a regular occurrence. “What do you want?”  
  
His boss shuffled nervously on the spot, “Me and Jac came up with a way to keep us in business.”  
  
“And?” Clint asked, “What do you need me for? Get Scott and the Twins to help you out.”  
  
“Oh.” Ringmaster said, his eyes lighting up and a grin appearing on his face. “But Scott said yes already. Everyone’s onboard except for you and we need you to pull this off.”  
  
Something didn’t sound right here. Clint forced himself to sit up despite the tiny stings he got in response. It was a hot night and he’d been sweating, sticking to the mattress like glue. He hated this Florida weather. Whenever were they going to leave this state for someone colder like…Canada or Maine or something? Cassie stirred a bit but remained asleep and Clint managed to scoop her up into his arms without waking her. She was like a lifepresurver, something he had to hold or have near him or else he’d feel like he was drowning.

  
“What are you planning sir?”  
  
“There’s a truck full of unmarked bills headed out this way toward the city bank. If we can stop it in time, and grab the cash, we’ll be golden Ponyboy.”  
  
Clint blinked really quickly a couple of times and tried to determine if this was some majorly unfunny joke or elaborate hoax his friends had cooked up to try and get him up and moving again. Ringmaster didn’t shake though. He just stood there, grinning like this was the best thing he’d come up with in his entire life. “…You want to rob a bank?”  
  
“Technically it’s a truck.”  
  
“Technically it’s illegal!”  
  
“Really? Is it really illegal though?”  
  
“YES!” Clint exclaimed, not believing what he was hearing. “It’s been illegal for centuries! It’s one of the seven deadly sins for crying out loud!”  
  
Ringmaster snorted. “Never knew you were Catholic.”  
  
“No one endorses theft! Are you on drugs right now?! Has Jac gotten you on the dope!?”  
  
His boss sighed and rubbed at his temples when something he’d said earlier fully hit Clint. Everyone’s onboard except for you….Scott said yes already….His boyfriend and the people who had taken Clint and his brother off the streets, had given them a home and food and shelter…were willing to rob a small Florida town. Ringmaster didn’t seem to comprehend how utterly wrong this was!  
  
He sat down at the foot of the archer’s bed, head in hands, and mumbling things Clint couldn’t make out under his breath. He was a man who’d lost the love of his life, the boy who was practically his son and now he was going to loose the rest of his family too. They’d be poor and homeless with no where else to go, no where to turn to. Robbing a bank wasn’t something he looked forward to it was something he felt was necessary for their survival.  
  
“I need you to pull this off, son.” Ringmaster said softly. “Please…the circus can’t die like this.”  
  
Clint thought about it, about how far Barney had been willing to go to protect the ones he loved, and came to a conclusion that he was less than happy with but felt was necessary. It was time to pay back the people who kept him off the streets.  
  
“If we do this…We return the money when we get it back, every single penny.”  
  
Ringmaster nodded and promised his young friend and the rest was history. The truck job had been easy, they made it out with more money than they had seen since Clint first joined up with this group of misfits, but that was not the only job that the Carson circus ever pulled off.  
  
Throughout August they pulled off jobs all across the state of Florida. Some involved all the circus’ old performers from the Twins to Princess Python to Trickshot and some were just solo jobs that the Ringmaster dished out to them. Each time he promised Clint it would be the last one. Every time they picked a target, it was going to be the big one and they’d retire home. Everyday they had to look back over their shoulders and make sure there were no cops getting wise to their scheme. The Carson Family Circus had evolved into the Circus of Crime.  
  
Eventually they had a bad heist, one where they were almost all busted, but when that happened no one could have predicted how it would happen.  
  
On August 25th they pulled into a small Florida town and made plans to steal ten thousand dollars in savings from the local bank. Scott had taken the liberty of designing some new cable arrows for usage of this particular heist. It was the first time Clint had actually seen him working the job with the crew instead of just making the tech for it and watching Cassie while they were out. If he didn’t feel so guilty it could have been romantic in a really weird way. Robbing banks could have been their thing. Move over Bonnie and Clyde.  
  
Things were going good. Clint shot the cable arrows into the roof and the twins were able to scurry up them and get into the bank through the air ducts. Small town security, what a joke! They were practically handing the cash away! Jac and Ringmaster had taken the rest of the crew around front to check for cops and to find a car they could hotwire for a quick getaway, leaving Scott and Clint standing to collect the money the twins threw down to them in bags.  
  
“You’re pretty good at this.” Scott mused as he watched Clint catch the first bag. “You been stealing from banks from a while there Robin Hood?”  
  
“As long as you have.” Clint said and caught another. In order for him to hold everything he had to place his bow and quiver on the ground and come back for them once the cash was all loaded up. It had happened before on a couple other small scale jobs like this. “You ever think your life would turn out like this?”  
  
“No. I really thought for a while it was going to be better.”  
  
Scott looked at Clint’s stuff and pulled one of his cable arrows from his quiver, examining it in his fingers and admiring his own craftsmanship. It was a thing of beauty, one of the most impressive arrows Scott had ever designed for Clint. The archer smiled warmly at him and Scott smiled back.  
  
Then pressed the launching mechanism for the cable in Clint’s face.  
  
Clint screamed and tumbled back, hitting his had hard on the cold, cement ground and blacked out.  
  
He woke up hours later back in his car, the familiar rock of the train as it moved threatening to lull him back to sleep. Jac was leaning over him, dabbing a wet clothe to his forehead, “Woah there buddy…”  
  
“J-jac? Wha-“ Clint tried to sit up and was treated to a mindrenching sharp pain spreading through his skull. He cried out and fell back onto his bed in a daze. “What the hell…”  
  
It all came rushing back to him. Scott, the bank, the cable arrow in his face and then hitting the ground. Jac didn’t say anything but Clint knew what he was thinking. He was thinking about how Scott had betrayed them, took the money and Cassie, and jumped town, injuring one their own in the process. Clint was thinking that too. But Clint was also thinking about how stupid he was for believing that someone like that had been capable of being in love with him and how now that Cassie was gone too…he was completely alone.  
  
That scared Clint more than Jac did when he said he had a minor concussion and that another, larger, more risky heist would soon be underway. More than when the archer realized how severe this situation with Ringmaster had gotten and that not only becoming corrupt by the money they stole, but the others were too.  
  
Jac was no longer Jac, the twins were no longer the twins, and Clint truly was alone and worse, he was alone and dancing dangerously with wolves.  
  
________________________________________  
The room had gone eerily quiet but all eyes fell on Scott who seemed to have taken a sound interest in his feet. He kept his head down, avoided any eye contact with the others, and even Tesla the ant seemed to be considered. He just scuttled down his master's arm, as if trying to avoid an incoming conflict. Smart little fella. And who said bugs weren't as intelligent as humans?  
  
Natasha broke the silence. "He...loved you Scott." It wasn't often that she didn't know something about her partner, especially the big things like this but she was caught completely off guard. Clint being in love with someone never seemed like a possibility to her for some reason. He was just so focused on being an avenger and having a good time...She couldn't believe that the thought never crossed her mind before.  
  
"Yeah," Scott said with a sigh. He didn't bother to look up though. This was why he never liked to look back on his past, or work with people. Only ants. Ants never judged you. "I know he did."  
  
"...And?" Hulk asked.  
  
"And what big guy?"  
  
"Did you love him back?"  
  
Scott stood up off the floor and looked down at his team mates. They knew about his faults, about how bad he was with other humans and words and explaining certain things. It was easier to show instead of tell them. Quickly of course. He lifted his shirt and adjusted his jeans a bit so the others could see his hip. A little red heart was tattooed onto his side, with a purple arrow sticking through it. On the arrow was one word embedded in black ink. Trickshot.  
  
Suddenly a light bulb went off in Sam's head. Clint had a tattoo on his hip too but his was some kind of strange looking bug, an ant, and if Sam looked hard enough he was willing to bet that somewhere on the insect tattoo was the name of one particular scientist. Matching. Couples'. TATTOOS!  
The rest of the team didn't look impressed. Thor scoffed and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, "How could that have been love if you did not even know the name of your beloved? You did not even recognize him when you two were reunited once more."  
  
"He never told me and responded to Trickshot. I...I never thought to ask." He sighed and pulled his shirt back down to cover his ink. "I made a lot of mistakes in my life guys, did a lot of stuff I'm not proud of but I really did...I really loved him and when I found out what the circus was doing, what they were going to do to my hometown...it broke my heart but I had to leave and Clint was in it up to his ears. After...After Barney died he wasn't the same and leaving him behind with those people was the hardest thing I had to do in my life." He left out how for the next three years, every time he shut his eyes, his dreams were flooded with the same reoccurring image of the other male lying at his feet after the cable arrow went off. He had hurt him...but it was for the greater good.  
  
Natasha folded his arms stubbornly in front of her chest and a trademark scowl appeared on her face. No matter what happened she would always back up the guy who brought her into SHIELD and saved her from a life of crime. "And when you met him again later on?"  
  
"I couldn't recognize him. He changed so much from when I'd last seen him...of course when he pointed it out everything made sense and I could see it again...but he used to be...he didn't use to gel his hair like he does now and he had this huge gap in his teeth and freckles....now does that sound like the Hawkeye you all know and love?"  
  
That was certainly true. No one looked exactly like they did when they were a teenager. They evened out, grew into themselves and from the last time he'd seen his first love, Hawkeye had fixed his teeth, learned how to get his hair just how he liked it and apply enough foundation (of which he stole from Natasha) to hide anything he might consider a blemish. In all honesty Clint spent more time in the bathroom applying make up and fixing his hair than Natasha or Tony did.  
  
It was the Hulk who once again asked the real questions. "But do you still...you know...love him?"  
  
"It's been a real long time Hulk...I'm not sure anymore."  
________________________________________  
August 25th, 2008

  
It was going to be their biggest heist. Stark Industries had moved billions of dollars worth of tech into the basement of one of their warehouses down on the waterfront of New York. They planned this for months, plotted out every possible issues, every possible outcome, to get ready and prepare for taking it all. The Ringmaster was sure this would go down in history, that they would never get caught and that once this was all over none of them would ever have to steal a dime again in their lives. They traveled for days to get to New York, with the only topic of conversation being what they would do with the tech when they got it and how they planned to get it. Clint said nothing the entire journey to anyone. Not to Jacques, not to Princess...he just sat there trying to wrap his head around how his life had slipped so badly out of control in the past couple of years. He had no complete control over what was happening any more but he did know a couple things. One; he absolutely did not want to go through with what the others had planned, and two; he had nowhere else to go if he did back out. His family...was dead. He was...alone. His first love...stabbed him in the back. The people who took him in and raised him, made him feel like he belonged...they were different now. They weren't themselves.   
  
The night the actual heist happened was a blur. Clint was ordered to follow The Ringmaster and The Swordsman up into the upper level of the warehouse. Computers were up there and the data on them was worth more than anything else in the building. Ringmaster got to downloading into some jump drives he'd brought in while Clint stood by one doorway and Jacques took the other. The others were in the basement unloading the tech, out of sight and out of mind.

  
Out of the corner of his eye Clint saw the emergency alarm by the main entrance. If he wanted too...he could stop this...but what would he do next? He didn't know and that both excited and terrified him.   
  
Not knowing what would come next...over knowing he was in the wrong.   
  
The Ringmaster and The Swordsman had their backs to him. They didn't notice when he pulled an arrow from his quiver and made his choice. They only noticed when the alarm went off and the doors to the building sealed shut, locking them all inside. Clint didn't bother to hide his guilt. He didn't want to be around these people anymore, and no longer cared what they cared to think of him. They could beat him up in prison but...maybe he could make a deal and get out early. Theft could no longer a way of life for him and that was all that mattered.   
  
SHIELD agents arrived before Ringmaster and Swordsman could calculate a planned attack against Clint and the next thing he knew, they were all in handcuffs and being lead toward an array of police cars. The others were screaming at him, shouting insults and taunts, but the archer had been able to flick off his hearing aids so he didn't have to put up with them. The worst they could do know was call him a traitor and deep down he knew that he was but...it was what was right. He couldn't change that.   
  
They loaded the others first and got a separate car ready for the circus performer turned traitor. To his surprise, a man was waiting for him.   
  
"What's your name?"   
  
Clint looked him over. This man was African American, bald and dressed from head to toe in leather. An eye patch covered one of his eyes, and his voice was oddly smooth but still sent shivers up and down Clint's spine. He radiated a familiar element for Clint. One of danger and adventure.   
  
"Trickshot."   
  
"Your real name. I don't give a rats ass about what those fools called you for their dog and pony show."   
  
"...Clint Barton. My Name's Clint Barton."   
  
The man seemed pleased with this answer, and nodded in response. "That was an impressive shot you made to turn the alarm on, Mr. Barton, especially considering your age. I'll get right to the point though. I'm willing to make a deal with you. From what I've witnessed on the security tapes, you wanted to go straight, to stop all the chaos the rest of your team was doing. If you come work for me, I'll get you out of jail time. What do you say kid?"   
  
What could Clint say? This deal sounded way to good to be true. He thought for a minute, before smirking and saying, "You give me a better name than Trickshot and I may consider it."   
  
"Hawkeye."   
  
"What?"   
  
"Hawkeye." The man repeated cooly. "Your aim is practically superhuman and having you on my team would be a privilege. Your code name would be Agent Hawkeye."   
  
Hawkeye. Clint couldn't explain it but the name felt...right. Like it was meant to be somehow. Hawkeye...it felt like a comfortable, old sweater that he'd just found again in the back of his closet. Hawkeye...He smiled,   
  
"And who are you? If you're my new employer I think I should know."   
  
The other man grinned. "My name is Nick Fury. I'm director of SHIELD. Welcome aboard Agent Hawkeye."   
  
  


 


	5. Chapter Four: Hawkeye: Agent Of SHIELD

Chapter Four: Hawkeye: Agent of SHIELD

Something was very wrong around the Tower lately but Steve just couldn't figure out what it was. It had been nearly a day and not once had he been disturbed from his painting to break up a fight about pickles, to carrel in Tony and whatever crazy robot thing he'd invented that week, help Thor contain his pet Bligesnipe Bligey or face any threat to the safety of the free world. Yes, something was quite wrong in deed.

Bucky didn't seem to mind the quiet. Ever since Clint thought it would be funny to put magnets on his metal arm when the soldier had been sleeping, Bucky tried his best to avoid all residents of the tower aside from his best friend and Natasha. He had a soft spot for her though he would never admit it.

“They have to be up to something.” Steve said, and pulled another fresh canvas out from his closet. It wasn't so often he got to paint this much. Today he'd managed to finish three paintings in total. One of Bucky asleep with the magnets, one of the team together as a whole, and one of the infinity gauntlet because while the device had the power to destroy worlds, it was also a damn fine looking little gadget.

Bucky was laying on the couch browsing his tumblr account, as he had been doing for the past couple hours. “They always are.” He agreed.

“Something bad.” Steve said, and pulled a clean brush out from the box he kept them in. This painting would be something different. Something...patriotic. The background would be the American flag with an eagle flying through and there would be a little apple pie at the bottom. He might even be able to add in a little baseball player and....-

The former assassin yawned and reblogged the fifth picture of a dog in people clothes that hour. “Most definitely.”

Steve started to form the image he wanted in his head and poured some paint out to use. Red, blue and white. American colors. Patriotic colors. “Midgardian Serpent again? Or Van Doom! No...he's still out of commission after Hawkeye, Widow and SHIELD ruined his vacation in the Caribbean....Then it's Loki! Or Hyperion! Or Red Skull!”

There seemed to be some kind of infighting happening in the Doctor Who fandom, Bucky noted, and decided to avoid anything that came up from them for a bit. He would instead focus on whatever new Sherlock information or posts came out. “If it's Red Skull and they didn't call me or you to come deal with him, I'll be really upset.”

Would it be possible to fit the liberty bell into this picture too or would that be too much? “We should go check on them. Make sure they're fine.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed and started a ten minute long video recap of the last episode of Supernatural. “Later.”

“Later.” Steve agreed and set to work on his next masterpiece. He would call it....America. Beautiful.

* * *

 

December 31st, 2009

It was official. Clint Barton's love life was a total disgrace. After what had happened with Scott, he shouldn't have been dating so soon. He should have given himself some more time. How this thing with Maria Hill had happened he would never know or fully understand.

During his first couple months of SHIELD training Clint was told that relationships between agents were prohibited. It took the focus off of missions which, when you worked for a government spy agency, was a _very_ bad thing.

She was...alright he supposed. Certainly was pretty and smarter than anyone Clint had ever met before, aside from Scott of course, but she just wasn't...memorable for lack of a better word. She was one of the most boring people in SHIELD and drowned on for hours about stuff Clint didn't even understand, and expected him to know. As for the sex life, well, Clint had never been an overly dominant man which was the only thing he considered to be working for him in this relationship. Maria liked control, craved control, but she was always pushing his boundaries. Sex was both mind blowingly orgasmic and terrifying. He would have broken up with her already...but to be a hundred percent honest he was incredibly scared of how she would react. She was deputy director of SHIELD, if Fury stepped down she'd be his boss, and it was a known fact that she had a license to kill. How did Clint get himself tangled up with people like this? How did he always get romantically involved with people who could beat the crap out of him?

It was why he was incredibly grateful that Fury had asked him to go on the mission in Budapest.

A small scale mission as any, the director assured him, but a crucial one in his career as a SHIELD agent. A solo agent had gone in a few days ago to investigate what they suspected was a Hydra base and hadn't reported back. Easy peasy, you go in and snoop around, try and find out what went wrong and worst comes to worst, Clint had to use his newly acquired license to kill to take care of the threat. He was a lot less thrilled about that than he thought he would be.

It was just him and two other agents going in. Lance Hunter and Bobbi Morse, a married couple, who had only been given Nick Fury's blessing of marriage after years of faithful service to the agency. The plane ride over could only be described as uncomfortable. The entire time they were making kissy-faces and talking about renovating their kitchen when they got back. Call him old fashioned but when Clint when on a super secret spy mission, he hoped to hear super secret spy things on the way over there. Not...this domestic crap.

“Budapest better be exciting.” He grumbled under his breath when they were roughly three hours into their flight. “Or else I may just die of boredom.”

* * *

 

January 5thst, 2010

“I'm booooored!” Clint whined and flopped dramatically down onto the only bed that came with the crappy apartment the three were walled up in for the next couple days. “When do we go and kick some butt again? Now? Now is good. Let's go now.”

Hunter and Bobbi were making tea in the kitchen and doing their best to ignore the younger agent. They were used to this by now. New agents without handlers yet were rowdy and undisciplined, they all just wanted to run right into danger and hope for the best. SHIELD had procedures and protocols, plans for everything that needed to be followed lest they fall into chaos. They decided together that they would let Clint fizzle out in the bedroom and sooner or later he would realize that they wouldn't be getting any work done for a while. It was better than the alternative of letting him annoy the living piss out of the two of them by walking in when they were either showering, changing clothes or trying to be 'alone'. Clint kept swearing these incidents were accidental but it was getting out of hand. Namely, the time he entered their bedroom to demand they go out and look for information while they were in the middle of sex and decided that it would appropriate to comment on how good looking the two of them were. In Hawkeye's defense, however, he never knew what to do in those situations and he panicked.

Step one of a successful mission, set up a secure base and wait for more information on your situation to come in.

That procedure may have worked well for other agents but it wasn't working for Clint. He waited until he heard the door to their apartment open and shut, knowing that the lovebirds would be going out to get a scope of the area, before springing into action. He wore civilian clothing to avoid any suspicions and pulled out the bag SHIELD had given him out from under the bed. When he signed up they gave him new equipment; a bow and set of arrows that could fit into backpacks for stealth missions like this one. He pulled it on over his shoulder and went to the window. From the information they had been given he knew that the missing agent had been looking into a warehouse not far from where their apartment was located. He could make it on foot and be back before Bobbi or Hunter knew he was ever missing.

One of the best things about spending your teenage years in the circus was definitely the acrobatic skills you acquired. Clint yanked the window up and jumped out. Their apartment was on the third floor but he was able to snag the tree branch of an oak tree that grew just outside and swung himself around it. From there it was only a simple matter of scuttling down the tree with a minimal amount of splinters and making it to the warehouse before his partners caught on.

Snow had been falling nonstop since they arrived and dusted the city. Problematic if you didn't want people tracking you. When he was making his return trip Clint was going to have to make sure he cleaned up his footprints.

At this time of day the industrial part of the city was practically deserted, making Clint's job one hell of a lot easier. He ran the entire way there and jumped the chainlinked fence without raising any suspicions form the public whatsoever. This place certainly looked like a Hydra base to him. Empty, cold and grey. Yep. Hydra's cup of tea. He sprinted along the side of the building while keeping a watchful eye out for any strange looking characters but this place seemed just about as empty as the city had been on the way over.

So far there was no signs of anything out of the ordinary. It looked like an average abandoned building. There was nothing that seemed out of place or even missing. It was possible that the agent that scooped the place had gotten their hunch wrong and disappeared because they were too embarrassed to admit it to Fury. Guy could be intense.

Just as he was about to call it in and return to the apartment to wait out the rest of the mission in a mix of boredom and relief that he didn't have to use his license to kill, something out of the corner of his eye moved. He looked back over his shoulder and saw a woman standing about thirty feet away from him holding a handgun and aiming at him. She screamed something at him in a language Clint couldn't understand but he had a feeling it was some kind of warning. He held his hands up and took a slow, cautious step back. The woman approached him with gun still in hand to keep him from fleeing. She was dressed in old looking clothes stained with dried blood and mud, and was barefoot and shivering. If she didn't have a gun pointed at him Clint might have felt pity for her.

The closer she got the more things Clint began to notice. She seemed underweight. Her clothes were almost hanging off of her and it looked and smelled like she hadn't showered in days. Her hair, bright red, tangled together in knots, was incredibly long and stopped just a couple inches from her hipline and then there were her eyes. This woman had the most vibrant shade of jade green eyes...

“...Um...Hail Hydra?” Clint asked. “You're with Hydra?”

She raised an eyebrow and Clint noticed she was staring at him strangely. Like he was someone she hadn't seen in a long time. Made sense. Hydra had a lot of...turn over if that was what you wanted to call it. If SHEILD or the police didn't get you, your own boss might.

“English.” She said, her voice thick with a Russian accent. Clint had heard about some Hydra agents who trained in Russia under a program referred to as 'The Red Room'. Old stuff. Was connected to the KGB too.. Most had been taken out when SHIELD went in and cleared out European bases back in the late eighties and early ninties but it was possible they missed this one. “You speak English?”

“Yeah. English.” Clint said with a nod. “I'm with SHIELD.”

“I know who you're with!” The woman snapped. “You're with that agent who came poking their nose here earlier! You've come to kill me!”

If it was necessary... “No. No I'm not. I'm here to make things alright. I-I can help you. Just tell me what's wrong.” She was panicked and not thinking straight. Probably hungry and dehydrated as well. This was just a shell of who this woman really was.

She seemed to consider his words and finally lowered her gun. Clint let out a soft sigh of relief and yelped when she held it out to him. This was the first time he'd ever been close to getting shot out in the field before so he was understandably nervous. The woman was unimpressed.

“God,” She mumbled. “You're practically a baby. How old are you kid?”

“I'm not a kid! I'm nineteen! I'm a legal adult! I can drink in Canada!”

“Well I'm twenty-six and I think you're nothing but a kid. Is this your first field mission? Cute.” She teased and if there hadn't been a gun in her hands, though she was holding it out for him to take, Clint would have reacted in a much cooler way than how he actually did. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, shifted his weight, and came to the conclusion that he wouldn't tell her that it actually was. At least she didn't seem to be in some survival mode frenzy anymore. He took the gun from her and pulled his backpack around to slide it in. She stopped him.

“What are you doing?” She asked, and her voice told him that she was trying to decode if he was incredibly inexperienced in the field or incredibly stupid.

“Putting the dangerous firearm away. You gave it to me right?”

“Yeah,” She said. “So you could kill me.”

Okay so Clint was still relatively new at this but something told him that ex KGB and Hydra agents weren't supposed to do this upon confrontation, otherwise there would be no need for SHIELD in the modern age. He looked her over again, trying to determine if this was some kind of joke or plot to catch him off guard. It was just them though, standing there in the cold, and she was completely unarmed. That didn't mean anything though. KGB and Hydra taught their agents how to kill people with their bare hands, how to make anything a weapon. She could have killed him already, if she had wanted.

“You said you could make everything alright.” The woman stated, and held her arms out as if she was going to embrace the wind. “Kill me.

That was why they were here wasn't it? He and Bobbi and Hunter...they had been sent to Budapest to kill whoever took out their fellow agent. That was this woman standing in front of him, unarmed and willing to die. No...that didn't seem right. She was unwilling to fight anymore. That was what she was, a fighter who was tired and...had no where else to go. It struck a familiar chord with Clint.

He had an idea but Fury and the other agents weren't going to be too happy with it. He slide the gun into his backpack along with his bow and arrows and held his hand out to her. She dropped her hands to her sides and stared at him, trying to figure out what exactly his deal was. Clint smiled.

“There's another solution. I don't have to kill you. If you wanted...I could help introduce you to someone who'll be able to help you, give you a new start. His name's Nicky Fury, maybe you've heard of him?”

She nodded hesitantly. “Yeah...I've heard of Fury....I'm not sure he'll welcome a criminal on board his team though kid.”

“He did with me.” Clint said simply, and kept holding his hand out for her until she finally took it. “My name's Hawkeye. Er...Clint Barton. Codename Hawkeye. Agent of SHIELD.”

She shook his hand and he couldn't help but notice how cold, small and smooth her hand was in comparison to his own. She could have killed twenty men at once using just that one hand alone and nothing else. “Natasha. Natasha Romanoff. Codename Black Widow.”

* * *

 

One hour and two paintings later Steve had finally forced himself to go and see what the others were up to. Bucky followed along at his heels cautiously. It had taken more than a couple promises for more food to get him up off the couch and eventually he and Steve had to compromise on going out later to get pizza as well as heading to the store to refill Bucky's junk food supply. He was running dangerously low on Cheetohs and wasn't happy about it.

The lab was empty as was the training room and all of the bedrooms. Something that was completely out of the normal for the team. Most of the time everyone went and did their own thing instead of clumping together and as for going out into the city....well they were celebrities. Most of the time they didn't go out unless it was in civilian clothes or necessary.

The two found the others in the living room all crowded around a basic looking book and...reading. Actually reading something that wasn't on a tablet, video game screen or computer?! It just couldn't be! This couldn't be real!

“That's odd.” Bucky whispered to him. “Think it's something bad?”

“Yeah Bucky,” Steve agreed. “I know Tony. He'd never willingly read a book that wasn't on his Kobo. This has brainwash or evil magic all over it.” He stepped back into the hall before the others could see him and started sprinting towards the door. “Come on. Let's go figure out who's behind this...madness. I sense Modok's name is all over this!”

They left the tower before any of the others could even realize that they had been there.

* * *

June 30th, 2011

Nastasha Romanoff was the most incredible girl Clint had ever had the privilege of meeting. Everyone who met her was instantly aware of her beauty but that wasn't what Clint saw and admired. Natasha was deadly, stronger than any other agent in SHIELD and she didn't get enough credit for the stuff she did. Fury paired the two of them together as often as possible, so Clint had seen her work up close. She knew how to manipulate the situation so she was always on top, always had the advantage and could walk circles around anyone you sent her way. She knew first aid too but not basic run of the mill first aid. She knew how to pull bullets out of your shoulder and stitch you up so you could never tell it was even there. She helped him break things off with Maria Hill too, for which he was eternally grateful. Maria was nice and all but too serious for him, too intense. Natasha talking him through it saved him from spending life with a woman who knew how to kill a guy in several different ways with just a pen cap.

Clint realized quite early on that he developed a bit of a crush on her.

Just as early on in their relationship, Clint also realized that it would never be able to work out between them the way he wanted it to. After what had happened with Scott and Maria, Clint wasn't willing to rush into trusting people so intimately so quickly though Natasha was slowly gaining his complete trust inch by inch. The second biggest problem was that Natasha was all business. She got her job done and looked great while doing it. She made friends but that was as far as she was willing to go with developing relationships as far as Clint could tell. She wasn't looking for romance, she was looking to get shit done. She fit in well at SHIELD and Clint had quickly come to the conclusion he would rather have Natasha around as a friend instead of trying to pressure her into something and driving her away. Soon it became hard to imagine what life had been like without her around breathing over your shoulder and keeping you from playing solitaire on the company computers when you were supposed to be monitoring for terrorist threats and riots.

Then Fury sent her on a solo mission to watch over a possible asset to SHIELD. Antony Tony Stark, otherwise known as Iron Man. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Clint knew immediately why he picked Natasha for the job and it made him sick. Her skill set and ability to kick ass was only half of the reason she was personally selected.

Being a workaholic, Natasha accepted in a heartbeat and was out before Clint could talk any sense into her and Fury was talking about giving him a handler until she returned. It was insulting. He had been a great agent without a handler and he didn't need one now!

The guy was highly recommended. A Captain America super fan who had been in contact with Stark in the past and was “looking forward” to working with Clint. The archer could tell that was an exaggeration. Once you worked with a guy who flew around in a metal suit, you weren't happy to go back to working with a regular guy. This guy, this Phil Coulson, couldn't replace Natasha Romanoff and as soon as she was back he planned to go back to working with her exclusively.

Their mission was in New Mexico. Something to do with possible extraterrestrial lifeforms and odd patterns in the ground. Nothing out of the ordinary. Phil met him down there. He was an odd man about Clint's height despite being about twenty years older than him. Balding and dressed in a suit and tie and pair of sunglasses. He looked like the older agent in _Men in Black_.

“Agent Hawkeye,” Phil said and held his hand out for Clint to shake. “I'm Agent Coulson. It's an honor to meet you. I hope you don't mind but I've taken the liberty of setting up a high place for you to work security for the scientists. We set up an elevator, it's hooked up to a couple cables and will run around the facility.”

“Like a zipline?” Clint asked, somewhat impressed. This guy must have done his research about him.

“Yes but there's a control panel inside the elevator. It can go back and forth as well as up and down like a typical elevator. I hope you don't mind.”

Huh. Clint smiled a bit and shook Coulson's hand. Maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all. Certainly was a polite son of a bitch and didn't mind the fact he had to go the extra mile to accommodate an agent who was years younger than him. Natasha would like him too. He was prepared and took his job seriously but he wasn't dead serious like Maria had been. Working with him on missions in the future, Clint decided, wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

 

" _July 3rd, 2011_

_I broke my rule about trusting people too early and rushing into relationships of any nature within just three days of meeting Phil Coulson._

_This guy showed up today and kicked some serious ass trying to get to that old hammer thing the SHIELD science team is having a field day over. Seriously, what is that thing's deal? It has to do something pretty damn awesome to make the team so excited and this guy who looks like some awkward cross between an Australian surfer and a common LA stunt double-"_

Thor perked up and looked around the room at the others like an excited puppy. "It's me. He's talking about me when I first came to Earth though I do not remember Hawkeye being there as well. I suppose I just never noticed since I was too busy trying to get to Mjolnir."

"Thor Shut up. Trying to listen to the disaster that is Hawkeye's life."

" _-this guy who looks like some awkward cross between an Australian surfer and a common LA stunt double barge into a government operation and open a can of whoop ass-_ " Really Clint. Who said that anymore? " _-It ended pretty anti-climatically. Guy broke down and looked ready to burst into tears so he was hauled off. Coulson seemed mighty impressed with him but then again he's dealt with Tony Stark so anyone else would be a step up. Anyway, we went to get something to eat after that whole ordeal and one thing lead to another and I kinda slept with him."_

Tony sighed both loudly and dramatically and rubbed his temples. "Oh god Barton's a whore. And everyone thinks I'm bad..."

Natasha frowned as read the next section of the text in her head. Since accidentally stumbling upon a blow-by-blow retelling of the loss of Clint Barton's virginity to none other than Scott Lang, an unwritten oath was made by the avengers to check ahead whenever things appeared to be getting R18 so they could avoid as much sexual content as possible. Clint made it incredibly difficult for them all though. Finally she set the book down and decided her turn to read was done. 

"The rest of the entry is him describing having sex with Coulson. It goes into some pretty graphic details. I need to bleach my mind now, thanks Sam."

How was this his fault!? Sam was the only one trying to get the others to _stop_ prying into Clint's past! He was offically beginning to consider reapplying to SHIELD and leaving these people with the mess they had all created. 

“Oh awkward.” Tony said with a low whistle and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Poor agent. Doesn't even know what's coming for him. Why does Hawkeye keep being betrayed by people he sleeps with? Is he a secret Winchester love child or something? Seriously guys, let's sign him up for online dating or something. Get him a girlfriend or boyfriend who won't die or end up being evil.”

“Tony shut up. You're bringing me down.” Natasha hissed, “Just keep reading. Let's try not to focus on the fact Coulson's dead, okay? He was a good man. We should focus on the fact that he had a happy, long life.”

Sam looked at the two of them awkwardly, then at the others. They all looked forlorn over the mention of their deceased friend, the man who had brought them all together. Did they not know about him?

“Guys,” He said slowly. “Didn't Fury tell you? Coulson's alive. He's the head of a new team. Fury used alien technology to bring him back.”

“WHAT THE FU-”

 

April 11th, 2012 

Clint found out about Phil when they were eating.

It had been Stark's idea to go and get Shawrma and after he'd almost died saving the city of New York, no one could find any reason to fight with him over getting a bite to eat. Clint was really more impressed that the restaurant Iron Man had picked out had somehow been able to stay open during an alien invasion.

Thor was the only one of them who seemed to be having a genuinely good meal. He was shoveling it down while the others just sat around the table completely exhausted and trying to keep themselves from falling asleep. Cap was nodding off and kept waking up every few minutes with a start, only to remember where he was and that the battle was over and he could go back to sleep again. Dr. Banner and Tony were sitting across from him and Natasha. Banner looked tired but he still managed to eat something while Tony seemed to be just realizing that he had died and the guy on his left had literally scared him back to life. Natasha put her legs up on Clint's chair behind his back and was occasionally tapping him with her foot so Clint did the same with her chair. Not even a half hour later, Captain American was out completely and snoring loudly, Thor had left to go make sure Loki was still chained up outside and Tony and Bruce was fast asleep and leaning against each other for support.

“Heh.” Clint said softly, giving Cap a once over. “Phil must have had a heart attack when he heard that old Steve Rogers was going to be going on this mission. Big dork.”

Natasha frowned and stopped eating. She set her fork down and folded her hands awkwardly in her lap. “Oh...You...No one told you?”

“Told me what?” Clint asked and took another bite of the second wrap he'd ordered. Tony said he was buying so even though the genius was asleep, he was still going to order food in his name. Damn it, he just took on an army of aliens with a bow and quiver full of arrows, he was hungry as hell! “Hey, what happened to get everyone working together? I thought that Stark and you were butting heads still and it must have been hella awkward for Steve at first. I mean Tony is the son of one of his friends and the last time he saw Howard Stark he was-”

“Phil's dead Clint. When we took Loki into custody an d you, under his control, attacked the helicarrier, he ran to make sure he didn't get out. Loki....stabbed him through the heart with his scepter. He's dead.”

Suddenly Clint didn't feel like eating. Quite the opposite, he felt like throwing up. Slowly he set the half eaten wrap down and leaned back in his chair, on Natasha's leg, and tried to let this all sink in. Loki was lucky he was going back to Asgard for some old fashioned Norse justice or else he would have had to stab him in the eyes with two of his arrows. Exploding arrows. So when he was rolling around screaming and blind, they'd go off and Clint wouldn't have to face him ever again. He looked back over at Steve still sleeping soundly, then back at his friend.

“Did he show Steve his cards? Get Steve to sign them like he wanted?”

Natasha shook her head and Clint sighed sadly. At least he'd gotten to meet his hero before he died.

Days later when they were clearing Coulson's stuff out of his locker on the helicarrier, Clint went to the liberty of securing the vintage cards and slipped them into his breast pocket. There was some blood stained in the corners so they were no longer vintage but to Clint they were one of the most valuable objects in the world. He kept them as a reminder. If he did end up forgetting everything someday, Coulson deserved to be remembered for his bravery. He was a bigger hero than Hawkeye ever was.

Low and behold something good came out of the New York incident. The Avengers, Earth's Mightiest Heroes, sworn to protect the earth and the innocent, united they stand and yadda yadda yadda. Others joined the line up as time went on from the couple Hank Pym and Janet Van Dyne who took on the identities of Ant Man and Wasp to T'Challa AKA Black Panther, king of Wakanda and a 'chatterbox'. Carol Danvers was on the rooster for a while as Captain Marvel and even a cool little robot dude named Vision was in their ranks for a bit. After a while though, Clint began to get the feeling that this Avengers thing wouldn't last.

* * *

"IF COULSON IS BACK WHY THE HOLY HELL DID FURY NOT TELL CLINT OR I?! WHY DIDN'T COULSON FIND THE TIME TO CALL US BOTH UP AND DROP THE INFO THAT HE ISN'T A ROTTING CORPSE INSIDE A CASKET! THAT ASSHOLE!" Natasha screamed and started punching the first object she got her hands on. A pillow, it was, soft and feathery and at her mercy. She wasn't going to tell her partner about this development. It would crush Clint to know that Coulson couldn't even bother to pick up a phone and tell Clint that he wasn't dead. She knew that Phil would have had to have a reason. He wouldn't just hurt them both like that but Clint wouldn't think about that when he found out the news. He would react rashly and emotionally and things would get out of control quite quickly. 

Clint didn't have much experience with good breakups and this wouldn't help him with his trust issues what so ever. 

Sam sighed and made another mental note for future reference. Do not touch Clint's stuff. Do not mention or ever bring up Clint's love life. Do not mention or bring up top secret information in front of the people who do not already know about it. The amount of mistakes he was making today must have been record braking. 

 

 


	6. Chapter Five: Avengers Assemble, Disassemble, Reassemble

Chapter Five: Avengers Assemble, Disassemble, Reassemble

May 26th, 2013

Clint had known getting into this superhero team stuff that it wasn't going to last long. One year and that was that, they were all calling it quits and Stark was tossing them out of the mansion and back onto the streets. The archer had been preparing himself for this day but it still stung when it happened. He supposed it was the way things were meant to be though. He did his own thing, worked better when he was alone. Yo soy solo. Thor went back to Asgard, Jan (The Wasp) and Hank (The Original Ant-man) ran off together and, according to the grapevine, eloped, T'Challa went back to Wakanda and the others just...parted ways. Natasha went back to SHIELD but after some issues that had occurred while Clint was part of the Avengers, he decided not to go back with her. Instead he got a crappy little apartment in the Bronx and every once in a while, he went out and caught a couple criminals. To keep his 'lush' accommodations Clint would work with the NYPD as a sort of consultant. Nothing too shabby and certainly something more than he'd originally expected to do with his life.

On this morning he was out taking care of the wrecking crew with the idea that he could kick some serious ass and get back home in time for another thrilling episode of Animals with Jobs and maybe order a pizza from that great place down by the dry-cleaners when the call came in.

Captain America was dead. Not really though. Teleported but Stark hadn't been able to piece that together until after he'd brought in the team minus a couple members. T'Challa didn't come back, which bummed the Archer out. Their time together had been brief but the guy was pretty cool and if he could only figure out how to work a skype account, Clint would have definitely been talking to him more. There was also a very obvious lack of Natasha and, as he'd suspected, everyone was back on each other's nerves.

Black Widow didn't show up to save everyone's butts until later but Clint was just happy to see her. Wouldn't ever say that out loud though. Not in front of the Hulk and Thor who didn't seem to understand the human need to show affection to people they liked. They showed affection with punching and stealing food and loudly declaring that they were the strongest.

Over all the mission to save Cap went pretty well. He wasn't dead, the team had assembled again and they had a cool new pad to chill out in. Avengers Tower, Tony called it, both a bit of a downgrade and an upgrade to the mansion. They had to be in each other's faces a little bit more but it was a tower. Towers trumped mansions any day of the week.

They also had Sam, the new guy. Awkward little teenager, drop out of SHIELD, and Avengers super fan. Clint didn't know what exactly he thought of him just yet but his mom kept sending him cookies in the mail and they were damn fine. Having him tag around, Clint supposed, wouldn't be too bad as long as the baked goods kept rolling in.

This time he had a feeling the team may last longer. He couldn't see them still standing together in about five years but something told him they'd have a longer run this go around than they did the first. Defeating the Cabel was going to take time and after that, who knew what they would be facing for the fate of the Earth? An alien overlord? A psycho robot? A team of evil superheroes? Anything was possible when a thunder god, a rage monster, a billionaire genius, an assassin, a man frozen in time and a super fan were your roommates.

* * *

 

Natasha frowned and started flipping through the next couple of pages. As she had expected the next couple of journal entries were all short, to the point and overlapped the challenges they faced ever since Sam joined the team. From the phantoms who tried to replace them and copy their appearances to Van Doom's attempt to control the Midgardian serpent to Attuma and the Atlantians trying to make a new underworld capital out of New York. Most of the information on these pages were stuff she knew already, making it boring and repetitive. She tossed the journal aside and kicked her feet up on the coffee table.

“And we're done here.” She declared, “We're up to current times. All this new crap is stuff we face together. Nothing special. Nothing we don't know already. So I don't know about you but I think I'm going to go and get some work done before Fury blows his top and the other eye explodes.”

“Ask him about Coulson.” Tony told her, arms folded in front of his chest and sulking like a child. He didn't like being left in the dark about these things, about the safety and well being of his friends, and Fury seemed to want to keep him in the dark all the time. “And if you see Couslon, tell him I'll make sure Cap _never_ signs _any_ of his merchandise. No cards, no posters, not even that custom Captain America Costume he had made!”

The others all gasped at the cruelty. Coulson deserved at least one autograph from his hero...He died to save New York for crying out loud! Keeping everyone in the dark about, you know, not being dead was kind of like a giant middle finger however....

After hours of sitting around wasting the day away and just listening to the other Avengers as they read out every dark secret Clint tried to hide from them, Sam finally had an opportunity to stop this madness and save any possible relationship he had or respect he got from the archer. While the others started to squabble over Coulson and his need for the approval of Captain America, Sam lunged from the couch to the journal and landed directly on top of it. No one could read what they couldn't see! The others didn't even notice.

“Come on Man of Iron,” Thor tried to reason. “His admiration for the Captain is understandable. Captain is a formidable warrior, a formidable leader-”

“I'M THE LEADER!” Tony shouted, “IT'S ME NOT HIM! I PAY FOR EVERYTHING, I'M THE ONE WHO HANDLES ALL AVENGER TRAINING, I LET YOU MORONS STAY IN MY TOWER FOR FREE! I AM THE LEADER! ME! ME! ME!”

Sam was really beginning to question the time in his life when he actually thought these people were cool. He inched back off the journal, preparing himself to snatch it up off the floor and make a mad dash to Clint's room while the rest of the team was distracted. If he was lucky, Clint wouldn't be home and he would never know about all that had transpired in the past couple of days. The journal was open to a page that seemed longer than the other entries. It was still fairly recent and one word seemed to pop out of the page at Sam, tempting him to read on. Hyperion. The first time the team had taken on Hyperion had been nothing special. He was arrogant, he was self-centered and he was just a common, run of the mill, super villain so why was Clint's entry about him so long?

He sat up and pulled the book into his lap. Some part of Sam, the part that was clinging to the moral that reading something so intimate and personal of another team mate, was begging Sam to close the book and put it back. That wasn't the part he listened to. It was almost as if this book had placed the whole team under some kind of spell where they couldn't stop reading until they got to the end, regardless of how badly it would screw up their friendship with Clint and drive him away.

“ _November 2_ _nd_ _, 2014. For once we couldn't save the world. For once we had to take a step back and watch as someone else was the only capable person to do such. This...new hero, this Hyperion...I don't quite get him. One minute he's there and the next he isn't. Natasha has it in her mind that he's not doing this for the sheer morality but I'm not quite convinced. If he was doing it for the fame he would have stuck around for the cameras instead of jetting off to wherever he's been walling up....-_ ”

 

* * *

 

August 2nd, 2014

Clint had to get out of the tower for some fresh air or else he was going to suffocate. Who's brilliant idea had it been to have Taco Tuesday anyway? Mexican food didn't agree well with Thor and the Hulk and given the fact they had to eat about fifty of everything to quell their hunger, it was a recipe for disaster from the start. He wasn't the only one fleeing the tower in terror. Natasha had been conveniently called off by Fury to complete some mission, Tony was called in to handle an emergency at one of the assembling factories for Stark Industries and Steve and Sam left when things had started to get bad to quote on quote, “Work off all that greasy food.” They were all trying to be polite. Clint, however, wasn't polite. After finishing his third taco he stood up, promptly announced that he would rather face the cold of New York in winter than die from Asgardian and gamma farts and left before either powerhouse had the chance to strangle him.

He walked a couple blocks and stopped for a second to try and get warm. The temperature had dropped significantly in the late hours of the night and his costume wasn't exactly helping. Sleeveless, skin tight material seemed good for superheroes in theory but in reality he was amazed he hadn't lost a finger to hypothermia already. He sat down at an empty bench and started rubbing his hands together. There was a cafe still open a couple of blocks away and he knew Tony had a tab there. If he wanted to, Clint could go and get some coffee later despite the mess it and the tacos would make of his intestines. Anything to get warm.

“Well, Well, Well what do I have here?” A voice rang out, causing the archer to jump and look around for the source. There was no to the right of the bench, or the left of in front of him. He leaned back and looked up. A figure was hovering above him, smiling with his hands on his hips. Clint recognized him instantly.

“Hyperion!” This was the guy who'd broken up that meteorite and saved the planet. This was the guy the others wanted to talk to and bring in. This was the guy who had winked at Clint and left him wondering what in the hell was happening in his life anymore?

“That's my name.” He kept hovering over Clint and smiling. Clint didn't know why but something about that smile made him nervous. It just didn't seem right. That was ridiculous though. Hyperion was as much a hero as him, if not more. He actually had powers. “You're the Avenger, correct?”

“One of 'em. I'm Hawkeye. The archer. They tell me where to shoot and I shoot. Rooty tooty point-n-shooty.” Jacques would have liked to know that he was still using that phrase, even after giving up the Trickshot identity. Wherever Jacques was anymore.

Hyperion's smile grew and he dropped down beside Clint on the bench. He sat a lot closer than Clint was comfortable with but it wasn't like he could say anything to the guy. It was a public place, and Hyperion was far more respected at their profession than he was, despite being relatively new to planet Earth.

“You're funny.” He said, “I like that. Remind me of someone I used to work with. I'm surprised that the others let you out here alone at this time of the night though. Seems a bit,” He slid even closer to Clint, so the avenger was now at the very far end of the bench and the handle was digging into his side. “Dangerous to be alone.”

Clint snorted. “What makes you think it would be dangerous for me to be out here alone? I'm one of the toughest guys on the team. I have training as a SHIELD agent. I don't run from danger, I run towards with my bow drawn and arrows ready to go! Speaking of my line or work, you need to come by the tower sometime. The others want to talk-”

“It will always be dangerous for people like you at night.” Hyperion interrupted him. He clearly had no concern with the rest of the team at the moment. His entire interest, entire focus, was on Clint and it was really beginning to freak the hell out of the archer. “There are sick people out there, who like to think sick things about pretty people like you. I think I may have to stay at your side for the rest of the night and protect you from that, M'lord.”

....

...Oh dear mother of god in heaven, no.

Just....just no. This was NOT happening. Not to him.

Things started to fit into place now. That wink Hyperion had given him, his lack of willingness to even talk to the other avengers aside from Clint, his sudden appearance at night, his inability to keep out of Clint's personal space, his word choice and that horrible contraction. M'lord and M'lady....if someone ever called you that it was a clear sign that you should run away screaming as fast as your legs could carry you. Only certain groups of people ever used those contractions. Bronies, Dude-Bros and Meninists and all of them were awful.

How was he supposed to do this? Hyperion may had been a big old Dude-Bro but he was one of the most popular heroes on the planet at the time, even J. Jonah Jamison approved of him! There was no way Clint could actually _stay_ here with the guy though when every instinct he had was screaming at him to run back to the tower and face the horrid results of Taco Tuesday! He was going to kill whichever genius thought that would be a good idea!....Oh wait. That was him....

He felt Hyperion put his hand on his thigh and that was where Clint drew the line. Hero or not, he was _not_ dealing with this crap! Calmly, he turned to face the intrusive other man, and with a dead serious face, loudly declared, “I have a rare disease which requires me to eat the eyes of everyone I become romantically or sexually involved with. You need your eyes to fight crime with your lazor vision so I can't date or mate or marry or whatever you have in mind with you!”

The smile vanished from Hyperion's face, as did most of the color. He sat there for a few seconds, mulling everything over, before he started to talk again. “So...If I were to acquire the eyes of other people for you to eat instead of my own-”

Nope. Not doing this. Clint stood up and started walking back to the tower without another word to Hyperion. The next time he saw that guy, he really wished that he could shoot an arrow in his face. He deserved it, hero or not.

* * *

 

If Hyperion wasn't currently incarcerated in a SHIELD Helicarrier holding cell under maximum security, Sam would have loved nothing more to go and punch the guy in the face. It was a good thing that Natasha hadn't read this part. Hyperion would be a dead man. The team restrained from actually killing people unless there was absolutely no other option and even then it was after careful thought and consideration, but when it came to her best friend, Natasha would be willing to spill some alien blood for creeping up on Clint. Sam decided to skip a head a couple of pages. Just in case Natasha looked over and tried to read what he'd just read. Or the Hulk. Or Thor. Or any of the others really. They would all go above and beyond to protect their team mate.

The pages he flipped open to were blank. Sam frowned and went back to the page about Hyperion. 2014. In a few months it would be a year. Where were the rest of his entries? Why did he stop writing. He kept looking until he found the last entry Clint had written and started to read. He'd finally made it to the end of this thing, so maybe reading the last of it would break whatever hold it had on him and the rest of the team.

It was shorter than the bulk of the journals' entries but longer than some of the ones at the beginning. It seemed different than the others though, distant. He frowned and started to read, this time out loud, in an attempt to break the small fight that had broken out on the couch. If there was one thing this book was good for, it was distracting the team from doing just about anything else in their lives.

“ _April 5_ _th_ _, 2015. I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Ever since that thing with Giganto I've started to revalue some things. I almost died. Yeah, I know I've done that like a thousand times before but this time while I was waiting inside the literal body of the beast waiting to be rescued, I tried to think about everything and anything I could to keep my mind off what was happening. I thought back to when I was a kid and still living with Barney, and Ma and Gramma and it was about then I realized something. I don't remember. I don't remember what Ma looked like or sounded like, I don't remember Gramma at all except for what I've read back in my early entries and...I'm beginning to forget Barney. I can't remember his voice, or what it felt like to know that I had him watching my back and making sure I wasn't going to be doing anything stupid and that terrified me. I don't know how to explain this so it makes sense but..._

_When I was still a baby and living at the farm, I slept in the same bed as my brother and my mom. There was enough room for us to sleep separately, we just stayed together because it reminded us that we had each other...I think. When me and Barney were living with Ma and Dad, we slept together for that same reason. When May was taking care of us, it was the same story. I shared my bed to keep this subconscious fear of being alone at bay. During the circus days, it wasn't too bad because for a while I had three people to sleep beside. I had Barney, I had Scott and I had Cassie. Jacques and Princ-Zelda too but I never slept beside them for a night. Then Barney was gone and it was just me and Scott and Cassie and it stung and all but at least I still had that protection from being alone. Scott stabbed me in the back. He shot me in the face, took Cassie and ran without an explanation and then I was alone. I think that's when I started to forget things._

_Many more people have come in and out of my life within the past couple years. Natasha, Fury, Hunter and Bobbi, Coulson, Ringmaster, Hank and Janet, T'Challa and Carol, The rest of the team...but I haven't been able to stop forgetting. None of them had been able to stop it and that fear is eating my memories._

_I've been scheduled to see someone about the possibilities of developing Alzheimer's. I'm not going to tell the others. They wouldn't get it. The others aren't like me. If Widow gets a broken hand, or Thor looses sight in one eye, it doesn't matter. An archer is like a surgeon. They need their hands to work and their eyes to see at maximum capacity. If something ever happened, even something so minor as a sprained wrist, it could be the end of me here._

_Then what do I do?_

_A forgetful archer is just as bad as a blind one. I might as well know and come up with some fall out plan for if it happens. Better than finding out one day, being canned the next and ending up jumping off a bridge because I just don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore. I've been working with what I got handed to me for 24 years and I'm not sure if I can manage even that anymore._

_Scott's back. Suddenly he qualifies as 'Avenger Material'. Jeeze, you help save New York three times and suddenly you're a hero. I tried talking to Tony about him being around, about how the last person I want to be around 24/7 is that jerk, about how I'd rather spend time with Hyperion than with him but surprise surprise he wasn't even aware I was talking to him. If Scott's an avenger now, I don't think I can be. I'm seriously considering leaving the team I just...I don't know what to do anymore._

_I think this will be my last entry for awhile. I need to clear my head and figure some stuff out. I'll write again sometime I just...I'm not sure when._

_-Clint Francis Barton, Codename: Hawkeye, Formerly Trickshot._ ”

The others were no longer fighting. They all just sat on the couch, looking at Sam as he finished the journal, shut it and set on the coffee table. Well they'd done it. They knew everything about Hawkeye's past that they possibly all could. About his dad, about the foster care, the circus, Scott, everything. No one knew what to say. Not even Tony who was a master at talking his way around things.

“Well,” Sam was the one who finally broke the silence. “You guys finished the book. We finished it. Are you all happy? Now, I don't know about you but I'm going to go and return this to Hawkeye and beg for him to forgive me for digging this out. You all can do what you want.” He scooped the book back up and headed off in the direction of his friend's room.

Once he was gone, Scott sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We shouldn't have done that. Why did we do that?”

“I don't know.” Natasha said with a slight shrug. “But he's going to be angrier than the Hulk when Clint eats his peanut butter.”

The Hulk grunted softly. “Cupid can eat the peanut butter if he wants.” He didn't want Clint to leave the team, he didn't want Clint to forget about all of them. Clint was his friend, one of his best friends, one of the few people who didn't consider him a monster. If to keep him around, Hulk had to sacrifice some food, he was fine with that.

“I think I have an idea on how we can make it up to him,” Tony said. “But we're all going to have to chip in and it's going to be a lot of work.”

Thor perked up a bit at that. "Oh! I can summon my bother here to help with the celebrations of the archer! He is excellent with the planning of events and getting things organized and together!"

Somehow Sam had a hunch that Clint wouldn't be so happy to see Loki again...

The other members of the team all knew that it was for their friend who's privacy they'd just invaded. It was for one of their best friends who was in a dark place right now and needed to be shown just what he meant to all of them. They all nodded and started to listen to what the genius had planned.

Clint still hadn't returned to the tower from his meeting with Fury. Steve and Bucky were still out investigating what evil force was behind the usual peace that had come over the team. They had time to get everything ready.

 


	7. Epilogue: So No One Told You Life Was Gonna Be This Way

Epilogue: So No One Told You Life Was Gonna Be This Way

For a guy who tried to keep up the whole 'mysterious' thing, Fury was doing a pretty poor job when he decided to take the helicarrier to meet with Hawkeye in central park. The people in New York were getting used to this crap by now though. Spiderman sold hotdogs down by Times' Square, The Hulk and The Thing went bowling at the Yancy Street Lanes and Falcon, Iron Man and War Machine flew circles above the city. It was just another day for them.

Once Clint was caught up on all that was happening and why SHIELD was currently wetting themselves, Fury dropped him back off at Avengers Tower to get ready to go on one last solo mission before he was officially back benched by doctor's orders. His check for Alzheimer's had come back inconclusive and until they could actually tell if Clint had the disease, he was to take it easy and avoid stressful work. SHIELD missions were always stressful.

Part one of his solo mission: not telling the other avengers that both the mind and time stones had been stolen from the Guardians of the Galaxy and were now in possession of some previously unknown force.

Clint stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pants and entered the tower from the helipad. The living room was empty which meant that something was destroying the city or everyone was still asleep. Except for maybe Cap. Cap always got up at 5 am to what he called “ _The Smell of Freedom_ ” and ran laps in the training room until Sam and Bucky came and joined him. If the three were goofing off in there then Clint would just grab his bow and quiver and go up to the roof to shoot at planes that passed over head. Not with the explosive arrows though. You only made that mistake once.

“Clint!”

Sam was waiting for him outside his bedroom door, leaning against the wall and looking like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was. He wasn't in uniform today, just a hoodie and sweats, and suddenly Clint felt ridiculous for wearing his first Hawkeye outfit which was about several different shades of bright purple and one of the most ridiculous masks ever made by SHIELD tailors. Clint opened the door to his room and stepped inside.

“Sam,” He said and went over to the side of his room where Sam had placed all his weaponry during the clean up. He had to give the kid one thing; he was certainly good at organizing. “You can come in. I won't bite.”

“Yeah, Yeah I know.” Sam still seemed uneasy. He entered slowly and sat down at the foot of Clint's bed. It was about then Clint noticed the odd square shape under his hoodie but decided not to ask. Sam took care of it for him. The younger male unzipped the top part of his hood and pulled out a fairly large leather book that carried a thick scent of buttery popcorn. Before Clint could say anything, Sam set it beside him on the bed and started apologizing.

“I'm so sorry I read it. I found it during my clean up. I swear, Hawkeye, I didn't mean for it to get as out of hand as it did. You're just so secretive about your past and you always distance yourself from the rest of the team and we all just wanted to know more about you! Tony, Thor, Hulk, Natasha and Scott...they read it too. We all feel incredibly awful about this but we just wanted to know that you're okay! You're an important part of our team Clint, we don't know what we would do without you!”

Clint frowned and sat down on the other side of the book. He picked it up and examined the leather, the pages and sniffed it a bit to see if it really smelled like circus food. He looked back over at Sam, shifting awkwardly and waiting for his friend to fly off the handles, and then back down at the book. “Sam...” He said cautiously. “...I don't remember.”

“Yo-You what?”

“I don't remember this. I don't remember writing in this book. I didn't even know I had it until now. I just...” Things weren't looking good for him. When he got the results of his most recent test for Alzheimer's back, Clint was certain that they were going to be positive. Sooner or later he was going to forget everything but he couldn't show Sam how affected by all of this chaos he really was. So Clint donned a happy smile and patted his friend on the back. “Thanks for telling me you read it though. I hope it wasn't too boring for you.”

“Uh...” Sam was at a loss for words. Barney had given Clint the journal so he wouldn't forget and he ended up forgetting that too. He didn't know what he could say about that to make it even an ounce better. “No...It was pretty interesting actually.”

Clint's smile grew and he pulled quiver up over his shoulder and grabbed his bow. “Well good. Glad you liked it. I hope there wasn't anything embarrassing in there."

Sam frowned and with the most serious face he could muster and a monotone voice said, "You wrote in graphic detail what it was like to have sexual encounters with Princess Python, Swordsman, Scott, Maria Hill and about walking in on Agent Lance Hunter and Agent Bobbi Morse having sex on a mission. It traumatized me. I could have lived my whole life without the image of you and Ant Man having sex."

The archer thought for a second and tried to get his thoughts together, tried to remember if he'd put anything else in there that he wouldn't want the others to read about. Oh, there was one... "Did you read anything about Hyperion in there?"

"He hit on you. It made physically uncomfortable to just read that so I can not even begin to imagine how you must have felt back then. Thank god he dropped his little crush on you, if you could even call it that." At least Sam assumed Hyperion had dropped whatever fascination he had with Clint. He did try to kill him on multiple occasions. 

Huh, so Clint had left out the last little interaction he'd had with the alien. That was a stroke of good luck, at least. Clint nodded and said, "If you need me I'm going to be on the roof, trying to see if I can peg a plane with a grappling hook arrow. If I do, and I end up being pulled to France or Norway or wherever, I'll call Tony to come pick me up.” And on that note he left.

* * *

 

When faced with a problem that did not involve science, math or robotics, Tony chose to ignore it and throw a party. When it came to making Hawkeye feel like an actual Avenger and an important part of the team, a part of this odd little family they had thrown together, Tony decided to throw a party. It was one of the few non-science related things that the genius was actually good at and finally, after forty-five years, it was a skill that could be used for good and not evil. If he couldn't have gone into engineering, Tony Stark should have been a party planner.

Stage One: Send Thor and Hulk to decorate for the party. This entailed whatever they felt the archer would find cool. Lots of purple, they decided, and the training room would be the best location due to both it's size and whenever the two powerhouses started to fight over where to put what, the ensuing mess could be cleaned up quickly.

Stage Two: Send Natasha to collect all of Clint's favorite foods. She (And arguably Scott) knew him the best out of everyone on the team. She'd know what he would prefer to eat.

Stage Three: Lock himself up in the lab and start video conferencing with Carol, T'Challa, Hank and Jan and pretty much everyone else Hawkeye was friends with. They were going to need all the help they could get for this little mission and it had been too long since their last get together. T'Challa could have been considered one of Clint's best friends so having him at this party was crucial.

Stage Four: Send Scott to go make sure that Clint wasn't doing anything stupid. Ex. Boyfriend or not, the two were going to have to learn to work together on this team and they had been making progress before the journal surfaced. Scott should have been able to handle that.

When Scott got up the roof Clint was on his last arrow and was laying on his back, looking up at the darkening sky. Judging from the number of broken windows, Scott could tell that Clint had been at this for a while. He stood in the doorway and watched as a helicopter flew overhead and Clint took the shot. Clint never missed. The hook caught around the hook on the Helicopter door and the archer was lifted a couple feet off the ground. Clint then cut the rope and fell back onto the roof with a soft thud.

“This has got to be the dumbest thing I've ever seen you do.” Scott said with a laugh. “You having fun there Trickshot?”

“I'm not Trickshot,” Clint grumbled and wondered why God hated him so much to make Scott Lang and Trickshot some of the only things he could remember from his circus life.. “I'm Hawkeye.”

“You're one in the same.” Scott said, and went over to the edge of the roof. He sat down and swung himself around so his legs were hanging over the edge. If he moved even an inch forward, he'd be falling down to the ground below and end up as an ugly stain on the pavement. Clint wasn't causing any harm where he was laying. “I don't understand why you hate Trickshot so much.”

“Trickshot was a criminal. Trickshot was a coward. Trickshot was a kid.” The archer listed off, and wished he still had an arrow left over when a passenger jet passed about a couple hundred feet over head. He could have made that shot. “Hawkeye is a hero. Hawkeye is brave. Hawkeye is a man.”

“And what about Clint?”

“Clint...” Clint is nervous. Clint is uneasy. Clint is lonely. Clint is stubborn. Clint is determined. Clint is forgetful. Clint is clumsy. Clint is friendly. Clint is outgoing. Clint is funny. Clint is sarcastic. Clint is strong. Clint is lean. Clint is witty. Clint is clever. “....Is human.”

“Well...just so you know...I'm proud of Clint and Hawkeye. Proud of what Trickshot grew into.”

“Are you know?””

“Yeah,” Scott said with a simple shrug. “I mean, I was in love with the guy. Seeing who he turned into...I'm one hell of a lot of proud.”

“If I recall back a couple weeks ago Scott, you were saying something else. If I remember correctly, you called out one of your ants for liking me, claiming he had _poor taste_.” Clint was teasing him now, which was something Scott had noticed was part of a pattern with them lately. They would talk, they would joke with each other, then they would leave each other for other things. Tonight though, Scott was going to stay here with Clint to see what would happen next.

So he chuckled and looked down at the city of New York stretched beneath the tower. All those twinkling lights reminded him of fireflies and being a kid back in his hometown watching them glow in the field beside his house at night. He turned his head and looked at Clint laying beside him and smiling up at the stars and not the city. He wondered if stargazing was something he did with Barney before he died, or their mother or grandmother, or Jacques and Princess, or Natasha and Phil, or if it was something he recently picked up as a habit.

“Hey Clint?” He asked. “You ever think your life would turn out like this?”

“No. I really thought for a while it was going to be a lot worse.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who's wondering where the Thorki, Stony, Hulkeye and BlackWinter stuff is besides a couple of hints every now and then? Well, when evaluating the story and setting up a plot line I realized that it would make more sense to put all that good stuff in the next addition in the little trilogy I have set up and ready to roll. It's coming, don't think I haven't forgot about it, it's just my main focus in this fic is Clint and I decided to knock aside relationships so he and Sam are the main focus. The ships are coming! I promise you! Just in the second fic in this three part series "Arrow Heart" which will be along soon now that summer has started and school is over! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I would like to take this time to dedicate this fic series to Clinton Francis Barton AKA Trickshot AKA Hawkeye. A complete and utter badass who needs more attention not only from the Marvel Universe writers but from the fans! This one's for you buddy!


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